


resurgam

by cyclothimic



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Army, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Anya & Lexa & Lincoln (The 100) are Siblings, Army, Doctor Clarke, Doctor/Patient, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, I'm Bad At Tagging, Modern Royalty, Non-Graphic Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Princess Lexa, Romance, Royal Lexa (The 100), Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Soldiers, What Have I Done, Worldbuilding, i can already picture the mess this is going to become
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2019-08-26 13:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 60,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16682788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyclothimic/pseuds/cyclothimic
Summary: When Clarke joined a military hospital in Libya, she didn't expect Princess Alexandria of Polis rolling into her operating theater on a gurney. After saving the princess' life and spending a few hours of laughter with said princess, she thought that was it.It is when she returns to Polis that she finds out her relationship with Lexa doesn't just end at former doctor-patient or saving the princess' life. And maybe Clarke is more okay with it than she would think.-"I'm a doctor, first and foremost, and I was not about to let the most iconic princess of all monarchies in the world to die on my table.""Iconic?""You're the first out and proud lesbian princess…like ever. William and Harry can suck it."-or Lexa is a princess and retired soldier, Clarke is the doctor who saves her life, and they don't expect each other in the best way possible.





	1. bona fide

**Author's Note:**

> my first ever clexa multi-chapter fic! i have become really obsessed with them and just had to write something to get it all out. also, don't worry, i am fully aware that this reads like total shit.
> 
> oh, and you know damn well there will be angst. also, i might add a sprinkle of supercorp in there, who knows? these are currently my two favorite ships after all.
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_bona fide [ boh-nuh fahyd, bon-uh; boh-nuh fahy-dee]: authentic; true._

* * *

 

Clarke should have never gotten out of her apartment. Call in sick. Pretend her fifth grandmother died and she had to take next chopper out. Get her arm stuck in the door of a military truck. Purposely jump in front of a truck.

Anything, really. She just should have stayed under the scratchy blanket and  _adhere_ to the bad feeling that had been clinging to her the moment she received news about what was happening back home.

Except she didn't really have much of a choice now. She had gotten out of bed. She had put on her scrubs. She had reported herself to the hospital And she had treated a fair amount of soldiers that had been dripping in since yesterday evening, until she found herself confronted with the one person she never thought she would ever treat.

Albeit, it took the nurse wiping off the blood off the soldier's face for Clarke to recognize her, but she was kind of glad that she only noticed who she was treating when she was pretty much elbows deep in the woman's chest.

"Is this the  _princess_?" she almost shrieked when she identified the face of Alexandria Woods covered in traces of blood on her surgical table.

Well, she did shriek, and attracted the attention of virtually everyone in the operation theatre. Even the machines seemed to have quieten at the noise she had just made at the realization.

The nurse startled at her shriek, but then he approached to have a good look at the soldier's face before his skin significantly paled and he seemed to start sweating more profusely. "I – yes, Dr. Griffin. Yes, this – this is the princess."

"Okay, okay, everyone step back from the table  _now_." She lifted her hands from the woman's – the  _princess_ ' – cavity.

"Griffin," Wells voice crackled over the intercom, presumably from gallery.

Did everyone know that there was a princess on her table except her?

Clarke gritted her teeth and nodded reassuringly without turning to face him. "Yeah, I'm good. I just need to…"

She drifted off, her concentration spread upon the injuries that had been detected so far and the extent of the damage, the readings on the monitor and the conditions shouted by a passing by nurse earlier before they pushed their way into the surgical section.

"Okay," she muttered, nodding to herself. "Okay." She licked her lips and took a deep breath before addressing the staff unfortunate enough to be handling the royalty lying unconscious on the table. "Alright, everyone, we have a Princess of Polis on our table right now. She's suffering from second degree burns, dislocated right leg, and multiple GSWs. If you don't think you can handle it, you need to step aside." The panic in her voice earlier had all but dissipated, replaced by the authority that had gotten her where she was in the first place.

When she was certain that everyone was where they were supposed to be, she dived back into the soldier.

There was valiant effort to push aside the fact that she was literally saving the life of a royalty, but in the back of her mind, as she requested for a saw and prepared to make her way further deeper into the chest, it was difficult to think about the fact that she was treating the very person who second-in-line to the throne of the country she was born in.

* * *

"So she's okay," Captain Indra Preen stated rather than asked, like she could speak it into existence.

Having seen the captain in action for the two whole years she had been stationed in this hospital, Clarke had no doubt the woman would be capable of that if she wanted to. But that wasn't the point right now. The point was distinctively beautiful, very asleep, and awfully injured, currently sleeping in the highest of quality of rooms they could give in this facility, which wasn't much, to be honest.

"She's alive," Clarke confirmed.

Captain Preen tapped a forefinger on the surface of her desk to a rhythm only she could hear as her scrutinizing eyes fixed on the blonde. Clarke tried her very best to not squirm. "But?" Captain Preen prodded.

"She probably won't be fit for combat after this."

"Probably?"

The doctor swallowed a mouthful of nervous saliva and gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I have to make further assessments when she wakes up."

"What are the chances?"

Clarke grimaced and fought the urge to not scratch the back of her head. "Very high."

No one would believe this if she told them. They would have to see it for themselves, as she herself could hardly believe it. But the captain's expression only managed to intensify in its glower, a clear indication of her displease at this new information.

Clarke expected more questions. She wasn't used to this kind of silence. She wasn't even used to the captain's presence at all. Army doctors rarely had any direct interactions with combat officers, let alone the fucking captain of the camp. Plus, she was a mere sergeant, which only minimized her chances of interacting with the seniors on camp at all.

Still, being the doctor in charge of treating the  _princess_ was a big deal, she supposed. She was kind of surprised that she wasn't talking to Lieutenant Colonel or even the General right now. So maybe not that big of a deal.

Captain Preen seemed to have finished with her thought processes when she straightened up in her chair and removed her arm from the top of her desk. "Report to me if there is any update," she ordered.

"Yes, Captain."

"You did good today, doctor."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Dismissed, doctor."

Clarke expected more questions, yes, but that didn't mean she wasn't an opportunist. After bidding the captain a proper farewell, she got the hell out of the makeshift office for the captain and made for the cafeteria. She had spent the better part of her day sweating over a royalty and she was  _famished_. Even the worst of hospital globs would taste like a gourmet meal right now.

Once she entered the room, literally everyone stopped whatever they were doing to look at her. She gulped and cursed inwardly once again that she had to be the one to have her hands – literally – on a princess' chest. This wasn't going to leave her for a long time to come. Word had probably spread to other encampments.

"The hero of the hour!"

And Raven wasn't really helping either. The red on her cheeks had probably never been more prominent as they all started clapping and cheering.

* * *

It was the heart monitor that alerted her to the wakefulness of her Very Important Patient. With a lunge, she put down the book she had been reading and rose from the chair to approach the injured soldier who was still struggling with her environment.

Clarke watched as the princess blinked rapidly to adjust to the surroundings, despite the low light that Clarke had adjusted for the night, head moving marginally on the pillow. And then it seemed that she had gained her full focus when she stopped blinking and looked directly at the blonde – and Clarke had to stop herself from gasping at the attention she was receiving.

The entire country – hell, the whole world – was well aware that the Polis Royal Family had exquisite genes. High cheekbones, jawline that could cut diamonds, and eyes that seemed capable of staring into your soul and clawing your very conscience out.

However, Clarke had always thought that Princess Alexandria of Polis, Duchess of Goldcrest, youngest child of King Richmond the Second and Queen Storme the First, was the most beautiful of the lot. A part of her had excused it as the works of photoshop and video editing. But that part of her was cowering in guilt now, because… _damn_.

Even being almost dead and almost losing a leg did not stop her from looking incredibly goddess-like.

She had to really muster the professional in her to avoid getting all sucked up into those viridian irises and forget that she had a job. Technically, she wasn't even supposed to be here right now. The director of the hospital had ordered her to go back to her apartment, fully understanding that treating the princess must have taken a toll on her.

But she couldn't bring herself to leave even though she had the liberty to. It wasn't just because the woman on the bed was the Princess of Polis, but the doctor also hadn't been able to identify as to the exact reason that she was still here.

She swallowed and allowed herself a few short seconds to gather herself before speaking, "Good evening, Your Highness. Good to see you awake." Her hand reached into her coat pocket to retrieve her stethoscope, putting them in her ears.

The bell was almost on the princess' chest when said woman croaked, "It's…Commander."

Clarke paused in her movement, frowning. "I'm sorry?"

The princess sighed, shaking her head in what seemed like dejection as she rolled her eyes upward and then lowered her eyelids, the frown on her forehead deepening, like she was fighting off the pain. Clarke hurriedly check out the other woman's heartbeat before pocketing the stethoscope again and pouring a glass of water for the princess.

"I'm Dr. Clarke Griffin. I was your surgeon. Here, have some water, Your Highness," she remembered to add.

It was when the brunette cast her a look that Clarke finally realized what the news were saying, however rare they came out to be. The second daughter of the Royal Family was not one for many words and she had a knack for hiding from the press – and on the rare occasion that she did show up, she had that expression on her face, as if she could stare someone to death if she wanted to.

Not that Clarke blamed her. Polis prided itself for being a liberal and economically successful country, despite how small it was in comparison to nations like the United States of America and China. Still, the press was the press, and never in Polis history had they ever encountered an LGBT+ royal member, which was why they didn't exactly deal with it well.

The princess was outed in the worst possible way – in an intimate position with a potential girlfriend in an elevator of a hotel, footage leaked by a hotel personnel. The Royal Family had taken their stance immediately, standing by the princess every step of the way and condemning all those who were in involved in the travesty.

So yeah, Clarke didn't really blame the princess for being so obscure and wary.

The princess in question gestured at her position on the bed. It was then that Clarke realized the patient would only choke if she drank lying down, so she quickly adjusted the bed for a more comfortable position. Then she offered the glass of water.

Once the princess had drank the water, she placed it back on the bedside table and addressed Clarke, "It's Commander." Her voice sounded clearer now, and for some reason, it sounded vastly different than hearing it on the radio or television. "Out here, in the warzone, I'm Commander Alexandria Woods. Not Princess. Not Your Highness. None of that nonsense."

The doctor blinked a few times before she inclined her head in acquiescence. Far be it from her to disobey royalty; it could easily be treason, she wasn't too sure.

"Commander it is then…Commander," she said, narrowing her eyes a little at her own blunder.

It wasn't much of a smile, but the soldier's lips did tilt slightly, and Clarke could swear she was eligible to have her own hospital bed or join the princess in the face of that smile. The latter was probably inappropriate and unethical.

The doctor had to suck in a sharp breath and disguise it with a clear of throat before she picked up the chart at the foot of the bed and began asking the routine questions. The princess answered all in the routine way that Clarke had seen many soldiers do – straight to the point and honest. Clarke wrote down all the details and replaced the chart.

"How long have I been out?" the brunette asked.

"Seven hours, give or take."

The princess nodded. "Has anyone alerted my family?" The way she said it made it seem like the princess found the idea distasteful, like she didn't want her family to know anything.

"Captain Preen sent word earlier today."

A groan escaped the princess' lips, which served as something of a surprise to Clarke. Still, a big part of her was glad that even the royalty had human moments, like groaning at the idea of family knowing she had been harmed.

"I'm surprised there are no guards."

"Well, actually, there's one sitting outside right now. He calls himself Gustus."

The princess' eyes widened a little and Clarke seemed to detect a hint of fear in those green eyes. After a moment, two hands pressed against a beautifully tanned face and a muffled "Fuck" sounded from behind those fingers.

Clarke pressed a hand to her lips and smothered a laughter. Before the princess had lowered her hands, she had lowered hers and turned back to the professional façade she had been maintaining since the princess woke up. The quietness became awkward soon and Clarke realized that she had nothing else to do now.

The patient was awake. She didn't kill the princess. She could go home and catch some sleep. The work began again in a new day. Granted, there was no doubt that everyone would be expecting her to show up to report on the princess' conditions, but apart from that, she was pretty much useless. She still wasn't sure what the protocol was, actually, on whether she should tell the princess her diagnosis directly or wait for documents or whatever to pass through.

And the soldier seemed unaware of her own condition.

Clarke had to hide her wince from showing on her face at the thought.

"Well, I'm actually not supposed to be here. I'll alert Gustus and the nurses that you're awake. If you need anything, just press that green button there." She gestured at aforementioned button. "I'll be back tomorrow morning."

"You seem a little too calm for having just saved the life of a royalty." Clarke froze in her move to exit, eyes wide and tongue too tied to actually know what to say. The princess shrugged with a sad smile. "I was there. I know what happened. I have enough medical knowledge to know that my brother is probably on his way right now to fetch me home to the best hospital there is. I also know that you  _literally_  saved my life."

Clarke clicked her tongue gently, surveying the royalty lying in a dirty bed in a military hospital at the edge of Libya. "Honestly, I think I almost had a heart attack when I saw that it was you," she finally revealed, thinking that the princess deserved it. It was the right move, she figured, judging by the way the brunette tilted her head and her lips twitched in amusement. "But I'm a doctor, first and foremost, and I was not about to let the most iconic princess of all monarchies in the world to die on my table."

"Iconic?"

"You're the first out and proud lesbian princess…like ever. William and Harry can suck it."

The patient released a snort, surprising Clarke once again with that very human noise that didn't seem to befit a royalty at all. But after everything that had happened today, the doctor was beginning to think that she should learn to take things in stride.

"Can you…stay with me?" the princess requested, displaying a never-before-seen timidity that would have had the entire world reeling had they been here. "I just – I've been asleep for seven hours. I'm pretty sure my brother is on his way to get me home. My military career is pretty much over." There was no concrete reasoning in those words as to why she wanted Clarke to stay, but Clarke understood. In just three sentences, she understood.

"Okay," Clarke whispered. "But I still have to talk to Gustus and the nurses. I feel like I'll get beheaded if I don't alert them that their precious Princess Alexandria is alive and well."

"Their?" the soldier pointed out.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the adrenaline leaving her body. Maybe it was the knowledge that this was for tonight, that it would seem like the princess was never even here in the morning. Maybe it was the playful glint in those green eyes that Clarke had never seen on any magazine covers or newspaper clippings. Maybe it was the mischievous smile that Clarke had only ever seen on a leaked photograph that created a nationwide uproar.

Maybe Clarke was just weak for beautiful princesses.

But she shrugged and bit down on her lower lip playfully as she started to backstep towards the door, eyes not leaving the royalty. "To me, you're iconic."

Today seemed to be a day of surprises for Clarke. First, the presence of a royal princess in her operation theater. Then the princess' ability to groan in irritation. Followed by said princess' display of emotions, no matter how menial. And now, the princess heaved a disbelieving laugh, her body shaking at the moment.

"Okay, doctor." When Clarke opened the door, the princess stopped her. "Oh, and doctor? I'd like it if you'd call me Lexa."

Clarke stilled where she was as she gaped at the princess. Lexa was a name that only the Royal Family got to call her, it was an open secret. Not even the media was brave enough to call her that in public. And yet, here and now, the same princess was giving her permission to address her as such.

The blonde would have protested, but in the dim light of the hospital room, she could see the sincerity in the princess' eyes. No sign of hilarity. Just a genuine request from an injured princess who just wanted to do something for her beloved country – in a braver form that Clarke could ever bring herself to do.

So she smiled and nodded in the princess' –  _Lexa_ 's – direction. "I'll be right back, Lexa."

* * *

The hallways were still lit, but the hustle and bustle of the day had quietened to the murmurs of nurses at their stations, the mumbles of doctors in the on-call rooms, the discussions of physicians in their meeting rooms, the occasional nightmare talks of injured soldiers, and the buzz of televisions in corners. Crickets made their music outside. Choppers could be heard overhead, transferring soldiers from one place to another. A slight drizzle had developed over the hours, creating a heated humidity that left the nurses with no choice but to crank up the underused air conditioners.

All was quiet. All was peaceful for the moment. All was relishing in the tranquility that nighttime often brought. Well, all  _was_ until they reached Room 307 in the military hospital at the outskirts of Libya, far enough away from the reach of the Libyan warzone.

In Room 307, the chatter didn't seem to stop, veering from one topic to another, following no trajectory whatsoever. The patient inside had forgotten her role in the world, her role in her country. The doctor accompanied the patient in that forgetfulness, allowing the patient to shirk her responsibilities for however many hours they could afford.

The guard sitting outside, Gustus, the man who was personally requested by King Richmond to protect his daughter before dispatch, fought a smiles or two, glad to hear that his charge had gotten a bit of light in this incident. God only knew the kind of mess she would find herself in when they got back home – not of her own doing, but of her heritage, her blood.

She didn't ask for it, but she got it all the same.

"And you were how old?" Clarke asked between peals of laughter, clutching at her stomach.

"Seven."

"And your sister?"

"Thirteen."

Clarke barked another shout of laughter. "Oh my god, your sister knew you were gay before you did."

Lexa rolled her eyes, leaning back against the mountain of pillows that the doctor had managed to acquire with the excuse that the princess should have all the comfort she could get. "In my defense, I was  _seven_."

The blonde snorted, straightening in her chair and leaning against the edge of the bed on her elbows. "You seem very close with her."

"Anya is the best sister I can ask for." There was no doubt that Lexa truly thought so – her genuine tone and the light in her eyes at the mention of her sister. "She's first in line, the precious daughter, so there's more restrictions on her than on me. I joined the military and fought in the warzone. The farthest she could go in a warzone in the strategy camp or the hospital. But she never stopped protecting me."

"That's nice."

"I'll tell you a secret," Lexa whispered conspiratorially.

Clarke raised her brows and leaned her head forward to get in on the secret.

"You know Roan Queen?"

"Yeah."

"Anya's secretly dating him."

Jerking back, Clarke's blue eyes went all kinds of alert as she trained them on the patient in bed, who only seemed smug in the information she had just given, not afraid at all that Clarke might sell it to the next tabloid in the morning. Mentally, she tabled away the fact that she had managed to gain the trust of a princess in less than twenty-four hours.

There were more important matters at hand.

"Seriously?" she gasped.

Lexa nodded.

The only thing Princess Anya of Polis had in common with Lexa was that they were both featured on every single 'hot' list – and that was it.

Unlike Lexa, the older Woods sibling was a much more publicized figure, though not as much as their parents. It came with the package of being first in line for the throne. She was elegant, courteous, compassionate, and approachable, not at all like Lexa. She rode horses; she visited orphanages regularly; she did interviews with press almost all the time.

There was nothing about Princess Anya of Polis, Duchess of Warlington, eldest child of the Polis Royal Family, that would indicate that she would ever be attracted to a person like Roan Queen.

As a matter of fact, Clarke met the guy once when he visited her hospital because apparently, family squabbles could end with a knife in the shoulder. He was one hell of an intimidating guy, resembling a ruffian if not for his well mannerisms when she had been treating him.

"No one except my family and his family know. They're planning on easing in the news when we get back, which will be earlier than expected."

"But he –"

"He's gentle as a bear."

"I don't think that's how it goes."

"He's gentle, is the point."

Clarke narrowed her eyes. "Are we still talking about Roan Queen?"

Lexa laughed and shook her head. "You have to know him to see his gentleness. I've never seen anyone as devoted to Anya as that man out there. There have been temptations everywhere for a diplomat like him. Brothels. Beautiful ladies looking to get a piece of a government official. But he never batted them an eye. He keeps a photo of Anya in his pocket all the time. Calls it his lucky charm. Says it keeps him alive. He's a goddamn sap."

Everything Clarke had heard did not match at all to the profile she had caught of the giant she had the fortune of meeting five years ago, as if no form of natural disaster could shake him away.

"Trust me, I'd be the first to call for his castration if he ever hurts my sister."

"I can only take your word for it."

"You should. I'm a princess."

* * *

"Have you ever met Meghan Markle or Kate Middleton?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I've been busy fighting in warzones."

* * *

"What's Beyoncé like?"

"Don't tell my mother, but Beyoncé is the queen-est of queens."

* * *

"What's a pretty doctor like you doing in a place like this?"

"Does that line really work?"

"Oh, you better believe it."

* * *

"So being a doctor runs in the family, huh?"

"Only my mother and me."

* * *

"Your brother's black."

"The whole world knows Lincoln is adopted."

"Is that even allowed?"

"The whole world knows that my family is pretty much the most unconventional Royal Family there is."

* * *

"How long does your tour last?"

"I'm actually five months away from being done with this one, which is my second. And then I think I'm calling it."

"And then what?"

"There's a trauma opening at Silver Hill Hospital."

"So home, then?"

"Seems like it."

* * *

One glance at the watch her father had given her before she hopped on the plane indicated that it was way past appropriate bedtime, and she was still on the fence about whether she should glad that she had a day off – courtesy of the adrenaline that accompanied her having to save the life of the woman on the bed in the same room as her.

On the bed she was leaning on, the princess was caught unaware to the world, and only then did Clarke realize how guarded Lexa had been when conscious. She hadn't expected their conversation to go so long – a doctor was supposed to encourage their patients to rest, after all – but she didn't regret it, remembering the anecdotes they shared and the easy laughter that drifted between them.

In a few hours, a royal helicopter would land on the rooftop and the only Prince of Polis would be escorting his sister out of this hospital, out of this warzone, out of this country. There was a certain sourness in her chest at the thought of that.

Mere hours between an off-duty doctor and the patient whose life she saved, just like that. They would go back to their lives – Clarke as a commoner trauma surgeon and Lexa as the intangible resident cooped up behind the gates of the majestic castle.

The blonde averted her gaze from the princess to the A4 paper she had snatched from the chart. Once it was empty, but now there was a rough sketch of the princess, peaceful and undisturbed. Clarke had seen many, many photos of Lexa, admired many, many facets of Lexa, but none of those compared to this side of Lexa that Clarke was privileged enough to see.

She folded the A4 paper into a small square and placed it on the bedside table, not sure if she really wanted the princess to see it. The chart laid on her lap as she jotted down notes for the hospital director and the physicians who would certainly the prince on his way here.

Then she stood up, adjusted the blanket over Lexa's chest, stared at her for a long moment, resisted the urge to lean down and kiss her forehead, and walked out the door with her hands tucked in her pocket and a strange sensation spreading over her torso.

* * *

"Dr. Griffin."

Clarke blinked rapidly, pausing in her hurried steps towards the hospital room she had abandoned thirty-six hours ago in favor of some rest. The  _logos_  mode in her brain knew very well that the room would either be empty or occupied by another soldier, but she was only human, and her  _pathos_ was urging her to just check it one more time.

She tried to fight the impatience and annoyance from making a physical appearance for the hospital director making his way down the corridor purposefully towards her. The expression on his face was confounded and confused, but he did not pause in his strides until he reached her.

"I'd like to congratulate you once again for the good work you have done with the Polis princess yesterday," he said, showing his Americanness with his lack of respect.

She nodded, shifting on her feet slightly to partially face him. "Thank you, Director. I was just doing my job."

"Prince…Lincoln – I believe was his name – came this morning with a team of doctors to fetch the princess home. Your notes in the chart were very detailed and the doctors wanted me to pass along their gratitude to you."

Fucking hell, this man talked like a goddamn sloth. She just stared at him expectantly as he looked back at her, kind of with a look of scrutiny, like he was trying to get a grip of her personality or something without saying a thing. He didn't seem to find what he was looking for as he just sighed and smiled at her again.

"Before their departure, the princess asked me to tell you that she's very thankful for the sketch." Clarke's eyes widened a little. So Lexa had noticed. "And she wanted you to have this." He handed over a paper folded into fourths.

"Oh."

Gingerly, she tucked one hand out of her coat pocket and took the letter. She stared at the paper for a long time, where she could see her name scribbled in elegant penmanship across the blank slate. The director cleared his throat and she saw that he was looking at her expectantly when she looked up.

Like hell she was going to share this with him. She just pocketed the paper and fought the sense of triumph when disappointment clouded over expectations.

"Thank you, Director. I should go check on my patients now."

"Of course, Dr. Griffin."

She hightailed it out of the lobby and hurried down several hallways until she found her favorite on-call room. A yelp sounded from one of the bunks when she crashed in, followed by a curse at her from Raven. She ignored her best friend, climbed up the top bunk, and unfolded the paper, delighting in the words that were revealed.

_Dear Clarke,_

_I was disappointed to see that you've disappeared when I woke up. My brother just isn't as attractive as the pretty blonde doctor who saved my life._

_Nevertheless, I just want to extend a sincere thank you to you for doing that. I seemed to have forgotten my manners and neglected to do so when we were spending time together. I am in your debt._

_I haven't had as much fun with anyone as I had with you in a really long time. Alas, I do realize that you only stayed at my request, and one couldn't just ignore a princess' request, even if the princess had been stuck in bed._

_So thank you for staying with me and allowing me to forget, even for just a few hours. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did too._

_Polis is a lucky country to have you as a devoted citizen._

_May we meet again,  
Lexa_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me about lesbians on my tumblr @ overcanary or twitter @ embettah
> 
> also, guys, i'm kind of in a bit of a situation here and i could use all the help i could get, visit my [tumblr](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me) to learn the full story :) thank you!


	2. carpe noctem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the feedback for the first chapter has been unbelievable! i didn't expect this story to gain as much love as it did when there was only one chapter - you guys are amazing. thank you! i hope you like this one as much as the last one.
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_carpe noctem [kahr-pey **nok** -t _uh_  m]: seize the night._

* * *

 

The Kingdom of Polis was not a big country. It was tiny in comparison to nations like the United States of America and Russia, but no one citizen would be as proud of their country as Polisians. Either first or second or third or at least top ten in education, gender equality, scientific breakthroughs, and human rights etc., Polis had managed to set for itself a significant seat in intergovernmental organizations across the world.

And as a Polisian herself, a royal born one at that, Lexa carried the same fondness for her country like any other Polisian. They would say she was biased, but she had gone to the United Kingdom for an exchange program when she was thirteen, had a liaison program with IMPACT in the US for two years at eighteen – her form of taking advantage of the brutal exposure of her sexuality by the media – started attending diplomatic events across the world at nineteen, and literally fought in wars from twenty to twenty-five. She had learnt to be unbiased and objective; she had also learnt that these so-called giant countries were the littlest of them all.

Nevertheless, it didn't mean that there wasn't room for improvement. There always was. And since Lexa could no longer be on active duty, much to the chagrin of only herself and no one else, she would make damn sure that she could still contribute to the advancement of this nation.

She read the thirtieth file from the stack that had been sitting at the corner of her desk since this morning. She absorbed the information offered in the file. She memorized the name of the wife and the kids. She considered the condition of the soldier's death that had resulted on this family's file ending up on her table in the first place. She studied the numbers and calculations for the funds that would be needed to ensure that they would be able to live comfortably and those kids would be able to have adequate education until high school, at least.

And she placed the file among the 'Yes' pile.

"Hey, kid," her father's voice interrupted her progress as he sauntered into her office as if it wasn't her office.

"I am twenty-five," she insisted, though a smile tugged on her lips as King Richmond made himself comfortable at the coffee table, sprawled across the couch and feet perched on the edge of the coffee table. "By all means."

"Hey, I'm the king."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"What you up to?"

"What I've always been up to."

"I hope that's the 'No' pile," he said cheekily, pointing at the section that was definitely thicker than the other.

"If it makes you happier, then sure."

He didn't mean it, she knew that. When Lexa first suggested it at her first Parliament since her return, her father was the first one to give his approval. She barely got by with just a little more than the votes needed from the Parliament to get the program going, but she did it and here she was.

It probably helped that his daughter was a veteran herself. That he could have easily been one of those families who had to endure the news that his loved one had been injured on the field. That he was lucky enough to only have to visit her at the hospital and not her deathbed. That he was fortunate enough that he was the monarch and he could afford it all.

Those things didn't apply to most families out there – widows, parents, children. A lot of them could barely get by with the existing dependent indemnity compensation that the government had set up, meagre amounts that could only put enough food on the table at the expense of rental and electricity and clean water.

Just because Lexa was a princess didn't mean she forgot about those she fought with in the warzone. Just because she was fortunate enough to be born in this family didn't mean she had the privilege to forget about her people.

It was why she decided to involve herself in the Veterans' Agency and the Defense Department on a level where she would be able to help as much as she could without interfering with official politics. It was why she was so adamant to set up this program that could help in propelling surviving families of fallen soldiers to a brighter future than the one the government had promised.

"I've been talking to Gus," Richmond finally said, so lackadaisical that Lexa almost thought it was just something he wanted to bring up.

The brunette contemplated the statement, not really studying the file laid open on her desk. Her forefinger played with the edge of a page, curling it and uncurling it, placing a permanent mark on the flimsy material. A sigh escaped at the realization that there would be no further work done until this conversation was dealt with.

In all honesty, she had expected this to come. It had been six months since her return, three since her discharge, and one since her family took notice of her late night patterns. Honestly, she was rather surprised that it had taken them this long to even try this with her.

"You drew the short straw, huh?"

She poured a glass of bourbon and a glass of red wine from the bar, handing the bourbon to her father as she approached the coffee table and took a seat in the armchair.

"I always want to talk to my daughter."

"Not things like this," she said.

He blanched in guilt, finding the red of his wine all the more interesting. She never wanted this conversation. If possible, she would rather they just let her be, give her time, allow her the pace she had set for herself.

"Honey, you're aware that you are…the fifth most important person in this country," he started, gentle and wary.

"Wow."

The look he sent her was afflicted and unimpressed, quietly scolding her for not even letting up a step. "I haven't told your mother." She narrowed her eyes, unwilling to offer any word. "But I will if you keep it up."

And there it was. She chuckled and shook her head to herself, taking menial sips from her glass.

As she stared down at the liquid swirling around in the glass, she wondered if there would ever be a time where the paparazzi find her at an AA meeting or drunk off her ass on the streets. She wondered if there would ever be a time when she didn't have to think about it and feel guilty. She wondered if the guilt would ever go away.

Her father heaved a sigh. "You know, I delayed a meeting with the Minister of Agriculture to have this conversation with you."

"No one asked –"

"The least you could do is give me an indication that you're listening to me," he snapped.

Lexa didn't dare to look at her father, not when he employed that tone of his, peeved and tense. In all her life, she could count on one hand the number of times the king had been impatient and employed that tone at her, because Richmond Woods was born unflappable and fortitudinous. He took everything one step at a time, always prepared for the situations that couldn't be prepared for.

Of all the monarchs, King Richmond II was the favorite, either in the Parliament, the Council, or the people. The steps he had taken with the country far surpassed the democracy his ancestors built; the way he worked with the executive, legislative, and judicial structures were so smooth that there was word that it would be added as a constitutional amendment for easier work in the future.

Richmond studied his squirming daughter and grunted soundlessly as he clenched his jaw. "Sorry, I'm not –"

The giant hands that had been the one to cut her cord seemed so small now as they clenched on the arm of the couch he was sitting on.

"Kid, you were this big when I held you for the first time – all seven pounds and six ounces." He made a cradling shape with an arm and gestured at it. "You cried for two minutes and then you stopped, and that was the loudest you have ever been for the first two decades of your life." His lips twitched into a vague smile. "I remember being so afraid that you would never…be present," he struggled. "I'd heard so many stories about the youngest always being the loudest and demanding, but you'd never asked anything from your mother and me. You are there, but you're also quiet. You build little houses for stray puppies. You ride horses with your brother and sister. Your sister asks for a road trip to India and you ask for the latest copy of whatever journal that's caught your interest."

"Planetary and Space Science is not 'whatever'," she pointed out.

He slapped the arm gently and then shoved a hand in her direction, like his point was just made. "Your mother and I were just waiting, you know, waiting for the day when you would be loud. And then you turned eighteen and you went even quieter when the whole world found out about your sexuality. And we thought that's probably just you. You are just the rarest youngest kid."

As he drifted off, his eyes only shone at her with so much adoration that she almost couldn't take it. It would be better if he could stop doing that. Or just leave and pretend this conversation never happened.

"But then you came into my office and practically summoned your mother and told us that you enlisted – that's when we figured out that you've never been quiet. You just pick your moments to be loud." There was a pause, and then he said, "You went away. You became the Commander by your own merits. That's the loudest you've ever been. And then you came back. And you made not a peep." His voice broke at the last word.

She eyed the thing leaning against her desk, so offensive in its presence yet so essential to her newfound daily life.

"I don't know, kid. Sometimes, I wonder if you'd be better back in Libya."

And those were the words that made her start wondering the same thing. Back in Libya, with cane and a trustworthy weapon and her comrades and the being far too busy to have nightmares and pretty blonde doctors – and without a cane.

* * *

 

Unlike the past countless nights when she had done the same thing, her parents sleeping in the room two hallways down niggled in her mind as she dressed herself in her coat and jeans and sweater.

Her father going to sleep knowing in the back of his mind that his daughter might do it again tonight as she tied her hair into a ponytail. Him keeping this a secret from his wife of thirty-five years as she pulled on a cap. The blatant ignorance she was displaying to his quiet plea before he left her study as she slipped out her bedroom, down the stairs, passed the winding hallways, through the kitchen, and out the backdoor.

She cursed when her alerted senses – thanks to the recurring nightmare that had woken her up in the first place and spurred her to get the hell out of the palace come hell or high water – drew her attention to Gus sitting on a stool by the backdoor, dressed in appropriate jacket and jeans and cap as well.

"Go home," she said.

He was just quiet as he stood up and zipped up his jacket. And then he just stared at her in anticipation, ready to go when she was.

"Why can't you be this quiet when my dad was asking you for gossip?"

The clench of his jaw was the only indication of his displeasure at her choice of words. Apart from that, Gustus remained mum, hands clasped behind his back and waiting for his charge to get up to her nightly activities.

"I tried," she said, not finding it odd at all that she had to explain herself to her bodyguard since she was six and learned how to climb trees in the courtyard. "For two hours, I tried."

With some sneaking and climbing and absolutely no more words exchanged between them, they were out of the castle and well into the city, reaching her favorite park – one that she came across during one of the initial nights of sneaking out. It was then that Gustus started keeping his distance from her, like he knew that she needed it without even asking.

She would have asked him, really. But asking him would be admitting that she had a problem, and Lexa did not have a problem. Therefore, she kept it to herself – the mortar rounds that flew over her head and in her dreams, the explosions that followed her from the Libyan grounds back to the palace, the cries of comrades that did nothing with bring more and more guilt that ensconced themselves into the very essence of her thoughts.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see them, hear them, feel them. The stiffness in her left leg and the constant reminder of her disability in the form of the cane weren't much help either. So she got out of bed and she sneaked out the backdoor and she came to this park.

"Oh my god."

Lexa was struck out of her thoughts of kicking the cane with her bum leg. She looked at the direction of the voice and could only repeat, "Oh my god."

The pretty blonde doctor. The reason she got to keep her leg. The woman who managed to charm the youngest princess with her honesty and genuine laughter. The one thing that Lexa had restricted herself to think about only before bedtime because otherwise, she would never get anything done. That person, that Clarke, was sitting on a bench just a few feet away and gaping at Lexa like she'd just seen a ghost.

A long, long pause settled between them, carried and dropped by passing birds, swishing with the leaves, and embracing them like an old friend. They took stock of one another, unable to look away. Green met blue despite the dimness of the night. And Lexa couldn't help but wonder if she could write another letter to truly feel out everything that was expanding everywhere at the sight of the blonde.

"This is so not fair," Clarke grumbled, and then groaned as she buried her face in her hands.

"Pardon?" Lexa asked while squaring away the fact that the blonde was too damn cute doing that.

The blonde removed her hands from her face and threw one in the general direction of the princess with a complete look of disdain. "It's not fair that you manage to look great no matter the situation."

Lexa cocked a brow when the words washed over in its completely unshielded meaning. The pride that rose in her – something she had only experienced twice; when she successfully asked Costia out and when she was promoted as Commander – was inevitable. She stopped herself from puffing a chest and crossing her arms and brushing her hair.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

Clarke folded all her fingers back until a pointer finger was swirling in the air, still directed at the brunette. "That."

"What?" Lexa asked, shrugging unknowingly, feeling a little too accused right now.

"Just don't look at me."

"Excuse me, I'm just trying to take a walk here."

The doctor went quiet for a bit, and they just kept staring at each other. And then the blonde began to portray a sideways smile, gentle and curious, and Lexa was suddenly thrown back to six months ago when she woke up in a hospital bed and heard a pretty blonde doctor addressing her as 'Your Highness'.

It was one of the best wake-up experiences that Lexa had ever had, despite the fading morphine and the ache in her left leg and the dryness in the back of her throat. Of course, she never told anyone that. Some things were better kept to herself.

"What are you doing wandering out here in Philly Park all alone, Your Highness?" Clarke asked.

Lexa rolled her eyes and shoved her hands in her pockets as she turned to face the blonde directly. "What did I tell you?"

"Oh, that still applies here?" Clarke seemed genuinely flummoxed at the aspect.

"It applies to whomever I make that request to, wherever and whenever."

Clarke nodded and then tried again, "What are you doing wandering out here in Philly Park all alone, Lexa?"

The veteran hid a smile at the sound her name escaping the blonde's name. That one rasp seemed enough to have her drop her walls and tell the doctor everything, but she had enough common sense to know that it was too early to confide in Clarke, even if she found the doctor to be utterly disarming with her natural poise.

She looked in the direction where Gustus was supposed to be at, and he had seemed to decide that the bench just few yards away was a perfect place to give them some bit of privacy. No doubt, he must have recognized the doctor – he hadn't been able to keep that teasing smile away for two weeks straight since she woke up to her brother's face and asked about Clarke. "

She turned back to the blonde and asked, "Mind if I sit?" One hand motioned at the empty space next to Clarke on the bench. Clarke nodded and Lexa made herself comfortable. "So you think I look great no matter what, huh?"

"You know what, I do mind that you sit. Get up. Stop sitting. It's my space."

Lexa laughed when Clarke mock shoved her in weak attempts to get her to stand up. "Hey, show some respect!" she mockingly demanded, tapping the stone ground with the cane, which of course got Clarke's attention.

As the doctor assessed the cane and then the leg she saved, Lexa almost wished the blonde would keep pushing her again, if only to avoid the conversation to come. Even though it was dark, with a crescent moon barely offering any illumination as a result of the clouds' interjection, Lexa could still the guilt slowly taking over the mischievous expression that had been on the blonde's face.

"I'm only using this cane because of you." The second she said it, Lexa knew it wasn't the right way to say it, which was only made worse when Clarke's face pretty much crumpled. Before it would descend into a worse state, Lexa quickly saved, "I mean, I wouldn't have a leg at all to need a cane if it wasn't for you!" she exclaimed.

It obviously didn't help. Lexa wasn't a doctor, but anyone who was trying to achieve something would be understandably disappointed to find that their efforts didn't pan out. Plus, normally, Lexa wouldn't care about how a doctor would feel about their failed efforts, but there was something about disappointing Clarke that made it feel impossible.

She felt like she didn't ever want to be the one to make Clarke feel any less than what Lexa had felt that night in the hospital room. It was ridiculous; made absolutely no sense; yet the brunette adhered to it like it was her only obligation for the night, though she definitely didn't plan on running into the pretty blonde doctor when she sneaked out of the palace tonight.

"I've wondered about you, you know," Clarke stated, seemingly unable to keep her eyes away from the leg in question.

Lexa curbed away the delight at the idea of Clarke wondering about her. "Can you please stop looking at it?"

"I can't."

"Clarke."

"Your Highness."

"Clarke."

"Lexa."

"Did you get my letter?"

Of course, that would be what got Clarke to look away from the leg and back at the princess again. She didn't answer, but the blush that rose from her neck to her cheeks were rather telling.

"I hope you did. The Princess of Polis doesn't just write letters to anyone."

Clarke huffed, crossing her arms. "You can either be Lexa or the princess with me. You can't be both," she set the ultimatum.

The brunette blinked, slightly taken aback by the blonde's brazenness to even dare to give her an ultimatum. The only person's ultimatum that Lexa had obeyed was her mother's, and she didn't even bother with the last ultimatum the woman gave.

Still, the doctor was right. Her current train of thought was partially due to her accustomedness as a princess, a royalty, someone that everyone feared before they even had any real reason to – that was, until a thirteen-year-old Lexa had decided that the son of the Collins senator from the US was an annoying son of a bitch and she challenged him to a swordfight and pretty much almost put him in a hospital. They weren't even using real swords, but that little challenge and her rare display of blatant irritation had been enough to drive everyone at the edge of careful and fearful around her.

She didn't want to be two people with Clarke, that was one thing she knew for sure among other things that she didn't. The blonde had seen her at her weakest, could have used it as material for short-term popularity, but for six months, she had kept quiet about her venture into rescuing the princess, even when she had been back for one month already.

"I'll be Lexa, then," the princess decided, softly but certainly.

Clarke shot her a quizzical look, almost unnerved by the fact that Lexa had just relented to a commoner like her. And then she smiled, saying, "Good." She pulled up her knees so she could wrap her arms around them on the bench. "I still have it – the letter," she added.

The brunette kept her eyes on the doctor, but Clarke refused to look at her, choosing instead to stare at the untied laces of her sneakers. Lexa deposited her cane beside her on the bench before moving to kneel in front of the blonde while ignoring the bolts shooting up her bones with each miniature movement.

"Lexa, what –" Clarke stopped mid-breath as she watched Lexa doing her shoelaces.

"So we meet again." Lexa moved to the other sneaker, the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her lips as the chant her father taught her echoed in her mind.

"Yeah, we do."

Lexa stifled a groan as she straightened up to retake the seat she had vacated just now. "I don't know about you, but I think that's fate," she said cheekily, throwing the blonde a smirk.

"Is it?"

A hum of affirmation was released into the chilly night, heard only by the two of them and ignored by the hulking figure on the next bench. "Totally."

Clarke threw her head back with a sigh that sounded mockingly dejected, and then she turned to Lexa with a quizzical quirk to her lips, mischievous and anticipatory. In the face of this blonde personification of everything that Lexa would never have expected in her wildest dreams, Lexa was suddenly at a loss for a proper reaction.

"And what shall we do with this fate thing?" Clarke asked.

Lexa sucked in a deep breath, casting another look at her childhood bodyguard who was smoking a stick of cigarette where he was. She made a note to have a good talk with him about that particular bad habit before standing up and steadying herself with the cane while crooking an arm for Clarke.

"I think you should let me walk you home. It's unbecoming for young talented lady like yourself to be out here alone."

There was a scoff, as expected. But Clarke played along anyway and placed a hand on the crook. Lexa tugged it closer to her body before they started walking down the direction that Clarke had pointed to.

"And then you can tell me all about how unfair you think it is that I look great no matter the circumstances."

"Lexa!"

* * *

 

It was almost three hours since Lexa slipped out that she finally made her way back to the backdoor of the palace. At the approaching hours of dawn, she could already hear some staff making noises in the courtyard, the stables, and the garages. She reminded herself to talk to her father about giving their hardworking staff a raise, if not a break.

Which, speaking of the devil – she pointed a finger behind her. "You need to let him sleep," she announced, shouldering past the patriarch of the kingdom into the kitchen.

Richmond snorted, following his daughter into the kitchen and nodding when she gave him a questioning look. She started the coffee machine and sat across from him at the island, watching as Gustus finally walked away back to his home for a few hours of sleep before the routine repeated itself.

" _You_ need to let him sleep," the king retorted.

"Hey, I could have easily just gone out on my own and I'd be fine."

Her father rolled his eyes. "There's no way I'm letting my princess daughter wander out alone in the middle of the night just because she refuses to talk to her family."

"Did you forget I was also a high ranking member of the military? I have the medal and all that shit."

"Only because you're my daughter."

Lexa exhaled a gasp that lasted longer than a gasp should. She glared at her father and ignored the beeping noise of the coffee machine that indicated the completion of its process. Pointing a finger at him, she demanded, "You take that back right now, Richmond Woods the Second."

He shook his head, sliding off his stool to pour the coffee. "My daughter just full-named me. Children these days are so insolent," he muttered. The next few seconds were spent ingesting caffeine, both of them well aware that they would not be going back to sleep for the next twenty hours or so. "Have you thought about what I said?"

"I met a girl." It probably wasn't the best way to change the subject, but she was willing to indulge her family's creepy investment in her relationships in favor of not talking about her inability to sleep properly.

"You're awful."

Lexa smirked, knowing full well why her father looked so uncertain. There was a silent competition between him and his wife – something about being the first to know about anything related to their children gave them great sense of joy; it was something they loved to boast about during special days like birthdays and Christmas, and none of the children, for the life of them, could understand why.

Right now, he was probably struggling between jumping for joy at being the first to know that Lexa had met a girl and keep talking about his concerns for his daughter. She hoped that the news she had given him was powerful enough to deviate him from their original subject, at least for a little while.

"Did you really meet a girl when you're out in the middle of the night?"

Lexa thought about the question, recalling the surprise and the disbelief and the utter joy at seeing the pretty blonde doctor again. The easygoingness between them hadn't dissipated even though six months had passed. In the back of her mind, she could still bring about the image of Clarke's smile and the blue of her eyes and the mischievousness that seemed to accompany her whenever she was relaxed enough.

Her elbow tingled from the touch that had stayed there for the half hour it took for Lexa to walk the blonde home. She resisted the urge to look at the space, knowing it would be ridiculous to look for handprints on the material of her wool jacket. She recalled the reluctance they both displayed when they reached the bottom of the apartment building.

And Lexa made sure to find out if Silver Hill was still Clarke's choice of employment place.

"She's a doctor," Lexa decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me about stubborn lexa and whipped clarke on tumblr @ overcanary
> 
> also, guys, i'm kind of in a little bit of a snag here, and i could really use your help. long story short, i've recently been diagnosed with a disease called pcos and it's been kicking my butt. if you're kind enough, please visit my [tumblr](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me) to learn the full story and see how you can help out this girl right here :) thank you!


	3. fac et spera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hah! and chapter three is here and our favorite two best friends show up and it's as fluffy as ever
> 
> listen, like i said, i'm bad with fluff, so take it with a grain of salt, okay?
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_fac et spera [fek et spera]: do and hope._

* * *

 

As a trauma attending at Silver Hill Hospital, it was a given that Clarke had a schedule that fluctuated at the last second with only a 50% guarantee that she could stick to her shifts as assigned. Not that it really mattered; she actually rather appreciated it, because treating a stripper pole sticking out of a man was better than saving solders whose lives were mostly hanging on a thread.

But Clarke had come to appreciate sleep as much as the next person, and she had never failed to chastise herself for not thanking her parents enough for forcing her on naptimes. Case in point, she had barely gotten five hours of sleep when she was woken up by the sound of her door banging open and followed by a series of footsteps that cared not enough for her need for slumber.

In her sleep addled mind, she had an idea who it was – or were, as it went. She wanted to kill them.

Still, she was rational enough to know that if it wasn't because of her spontaneous late night wandering into Philly Park earlier, she would have gotten more hours of sleep. Be that as it may, she didn't regret it, because that singular spontaneity had led her to a reunion with an individual who had haunted her more than necessary since six months ago.

Nevertheless, while she herself was to blame, it didn't give her intruders permission to just barge into her place whenever they felt like it. They had been doing it since she came back and signed the lease for the place, and she had been as displeased every one of those times as she was right now.

Clarke opened her eyes a little, allowing a small smile to creep on her face as she recalled everything that had occurred from the moment she clocked out of her shift to when she reached her doorstep. The banter that picked up from where they had left it at hospital. The gentleness and wit that couldn't be found on the internet. The appreciation for the ability to use a goddamn  _cane_. The tiny quirk constantly tugging on those kissable lips as the owner interacted with the doctor.

Since six months ago, the image of Lexa Woods all casual and kind of a hot mess in a hospital bed had been ingrained in her brain, and Clarke couldn't replace that image with a much nicer photograph on Google even if she wanted to. That image had, shamefully, served as material for some dirty dreams. Clarke had spent at least two days a week wondering if the princess made it okay, if the princess still remembered her, if there was ever a chance they would meet again.

The letter that Lexa had left behind was sitting on a mantel over the chest in her bedroom, clad in a nice frame she picked up from Ikea when she was furniture shopping. Every night, she would look at it and believe once again that she and the princess of her country had been friends for at least a night.

And now,  _now_ , she had one other image of Lexa Woods that nobody else, except for the scary bodyguard, got to have. One of her in a hoodie and a pair of skinny jeans and a Red Sox baseball cap, with a relaxed smile and a flirtatious glint in those green eyes. Playful and loose.

"Griffin!" She startled out of her reverie when two voices shouted from the doorway and human weights proceeded to join her in her bed.

She cursed and yelped as a knee dug into her waist and a finger nearly poked her in the eye as those two humans scrambled to find stability on the bed. "What the  _fuck_ ," she cried when one of them tugged on her hair momentarily.

"There's a princess outside."

Clarke blinked the sleep out of her eyes and stared at Octavia in confusion – Raven's head was perched over her shoulder. "What?" she whispered, thinking that perhaps they had lost it.

Octavia shoved her while Raven shoved an arm towards the door. "A  _princess_ ," they hissed in unison.

"Oh my god, wake the fuck  _up_ ," Octavia snapped, starting to snake her arms under Clarke's armpits and dragging her to sit upright, only encouraged by Raven's murmurs while completely ignoring the blonde's protests. "Listen, Lexa Woods – yes, that Princess Alexandria  _fucking_ Woods – just apologized to us for interrupting our morning  _and then_ asked us if it would be convenient to ask  _you_  if you're willing to meet her outside." All the while, Raven was just nodding viciously while throwing wary glances towards the door. "What the  _fuck_ is going on?"

Listen, she had a total of  _four_ hours of sleep – one couldn't blame her for taking a little longer than necessary to truly absorb the information that had just been shoved into her face by her two best friends.

Nevertheless, as soon as she had comprehended the gravity of everything Octavia had just said, any sign of sleep was forgotten, replaced only by disbelief and panic as she scrambled out of bed, not even caring that the two intruders had toppled out of bed along with her, and got dressed. She checked herself in the mirror, trying to make the best out of her irreparable bedhead, and popped a mint into her mouth.

"What did you tell her?" she hissed, tucking on her slippers and tripping out of the bedroom.

"What do you mean what did we tell her?" Raven snapped, finding her footing faster than Octavia despite the fact that she was the crippled one out of the three of them. "There's a princess at your door, Clarke!" As if to emphasize her point, the Latina just pointed an angry finger at aforementioned door as she followed the blonde out.

"Oh fuck," Clarke muttered under her breath and placed her hand around the knob.

"We better hear some good –"

The door opened and indeed, Lexa was standing right there, overcoat on with a well-ironed light blue button down and a pair of skinny jeans underneath. Completely put together and completely unlike her appearance just hours ago.

"– explanation later when you're done with the princess!" The rest of that sentence was muffled by a hastily slammed door.

For the second time in only so many hours, the doctor found herself gaping at the princess, still finding the fact that the  _Princess of Polis_ had been within a mile of her vicinity  _three times_ rather unreal. She brushed her hair and placed a hesitant hand on the door and brushed her hair again and blinked a few times, while her mouth just opened and closed repeatedly.

"Your friends are…interesting," Lexa commented, obviously offering Clarke an olive branch as she tried very hard not to smirk at the blonde's inability to form words.

"Yeah, I –" Clarke swallowed and frowned at Lexa. "Did you even sleep?"

"I had coffee with my dad."

Clarke decided to bypass the fact that Lexa just called the King 'dad' and furrowed deeper. "But you slept."

"I closed my eyes in the shower if that counts."

" _Lexa_."

"Just because you saved my life once upon a time doesn't mean you get to advise me on my sleeping pattern."

Clarke huffed, shaking her head and crossing her arms. "As a certified doctor myself, I simply cannot condone this behavior."

"You look cute by the way."

"There are literally researches out there that –"

Clarke cut herself off, frozen in place, as Lexa simply stared at her with that mischievous smile and that mischievous glint in those eyes. It was said in such a careless manner that the blonde had almost just totally ignored it so she could rant about scientific researches and sleeping patterns and extended lifespans.

Not that the princess of her country living longer wouldn't be a good thing – it would most likely do the world wonders – but Clarke was shallow enough to prioritize the princess calling her cute over her lifespan. It could be treasonous, but she was also quite sure that not a lot of people was called cute by the one and only Lexa Woods.

Plus, as she gawked back at the brunette, there was a moment where doubts came in about how many other people had seen this look on Lexa before. Entirely unabashed and shameless, so unlike the image that had been portrayed on magazine spreads and newspaper clippings.

Clarke shook her head, chastising herself for being so damn weak in the face of a pretty girl. Sure, said pretty girl was another level of beautiful, but that was beside the point. She herself was a certified  _doctor_ with a colorful repertoire under her name and a medal hanging on her mantel; there ought to be more decorum than what she was showing right now.

"I'm wearing yesterday's clothes and –" she glanced down "–  _fuzzy bunny slippers_." If there was a time machine so she could have the chance to change her shoes, it would be pretty useful right about now.

"Yeah, I know."

"If only the rest of the world knows you're this charming."

"Gus knows. Gus is the rest of the world." Lexa carelessly gestured down the corridor, where Clarke had just noticed stood a foreboding figure.

"You need to let him sleep."

"Tell my dad that."

Ignoring the casual remark once again, Clarke sighed as she noticed that this conversation had gone entirely way off point. "Side note: Gustus is the not the rest of the world. The rest of the world does not look like the bear that's ready to tear down your tent in the middle of the night and eat you up."

"You sound like you have experience with that," Lexa commented, tilting her head with her eyes narrowed in curiosity.

Clarke was pretty sure she had never worked as hard at anything as her effort to not get bogged down by how absolutely adorable Lexa looked like this. "Your sleeping pattern and your giant bodyguard aside," she began, "what are you doing back here?"

And it was then that the confident façade disappeared like water washing away; in its stead were fidgeting fingers and darting eyes and lip licking. Good to know that maybe the princess didn't have as much game as Clarke had first thought. Gave her a little bit more edge in this department. Made her feel a little less inadequate.

Maybe she could play this game too. That was, only if she wanted to. She still wasn't sure. It wasn't everyday that you went out to a war and come back having saved a royalty's life and calling said royalty by her first name. Clarke was thankful that she had remembered to pick up some Ben & Jerry's over the weekend.

"I forgot to ask for your number."

Clarke blinked slowly. "You missed sleep just so you can come all the way out here to ask for my number?"

"Don't be absurd. Your place isn't that far away. I just don't sleep." Before the blonde could pursue the subject further, Lexa bustled on with determination, as if she knew that Clarke would hook onto it. "I actually wanted to show up at your hospital, but then I realized I couldn't wait that long, so here I am. Plus, I think it'd probably be much worse if I just show up at your hospital. I imagine you wouldn't want paparazzi to just pop up and interrupt your workspace." When Clarke didn't say anything, Lexa smiled sheepishly with a shrug. "I really like talking to you, Clarke."

"You're the princess, Lexa. I'm pretty sure you can easily get your hands on my number without purposely making a trip out here."

"Yes, but that wouldn't be very sincere of me, would it?"

"What a goddamn charmer."

"Thank you." Lexa winked and Clarke almost asked for a pen right there. "Also, I'm not a tyrant. I want to have your number with your consent. If you ask me to leave right now, I will."

Clarke sighed. "What am I going to do with you, Your Highness?"

"You could start with giving me your number." Lexa paused, glancing at her bodyguard doubtfully, who was still expressionless in the distance. But the brunette must have seen something there, as she turned back to Clarke with more resolution than before. "Only if you want to, of course."

Clarke asked for a pen. Lexa signaled for Gustus. He made his way down the corridor and gave Clarke a look that was half dirty and half amused, like he couldn't believe his charge had resorted to this kind of flirting and he would slit her throat the next second if she even tried something.

Honestly, Clarke could hardly believe this was happening right now. She wanted to say stranger things had happened, but that would be a lie. No stranger things had happened. This was the strangest thing that had ever happened.

Nevertheless, the fact that the second Princess of Polis only had one bodyguard was also strange. But as Clarke found herself being smiled at gratefully by said princess, she decided it was a conversation for another time. She hadn't been sure if there would be another conversation, but now that the princess was leaving her  _building_ with her number, there wasn't any doubt about it anymore.

* * *

"Didn't the sister just announce her engagement with Roan Queen?"

"I have rounds, Raven."

"I can't believe I didn't notice that letter until today."

"Yeah well, you can be pretty self-absorbed, Octavia."

"Are you going to be at the royal wedding?"

"That's not relevant."

"What do you mean it's not relevant? It's the royal wedding!"

"Don't you have drips to change and patients to coddle?"

"They're not relevant right now."

"Imagine how proud Sydney would be to have trained a nurse like you."

"Holy shit, do you know her brother?"

"Let me do my rounds in peace."

"You know, you're not being very nice, letting a cripple run after you like this."

Clarke only snorted and swerved into a patient's room where her friends wouldn't follow her. They had jobs to do. When she was done later, she was sure that they would be gone and she'd be able to escape their incessant questioning for a few more hours. Briefly, she wondered if Wells would mind that she break into his apartment tonight.

Never mind that. It wasn't important right now. Speaking of important, she displayed a bright smile on her face and greeted the patient, "Good evening, Mrs. Lang. How are we feeling today?"

And that was how it went for the rest of the evening, extending well into the wee hours of the morning. The ER was as its usual. Traumas came and went. She treated some cuts and bruises, bought a kid who was waiting for her mother a lollipop from the vending machine, judged another kid for drinking too much on a Wednesday night that he landed in here with alcohol intoxication, and made her rounds.

All the while, her phone was kept on silent because she had been glancing at it a little too many times since this morning and it was a form of distraction that a trauma attending like her couldn't afford to have, even though there had been absolutely no distraction at all, which was a distraction in and of itself.

Clarke kept telling herself that the woman was part of the royal family, so she surely had her duties to attend to. She had been hearing about Lexa's involvement with the Defense Department and Veterans' Agency, about the things she had been doing for veterans' families and non-returning solders' loved ones, so yeah, Lexa was off doing great stuff, busy giving out money and providing educational opportunities to poor kids.

Still, Clarke was nothing but a mere human woman, and when she gave out her number, she expected the person she gave it to  _text_ her.

She was on her second break in her 48 hour shift, sipping on her coffee in the on-call room, when her phone buzzed. No one was in here with her, so she wasn't afraid to admit that she leaped for it in anticipation, only to drop in disappointment once she saw that it was Raven asking where she was. Before she could stop herself in her moment of deliriousness, she revealed her location, only to realize her mistake.

She could only sigh to herself at this point. And she had been doing so well in avoiding the two monsters since she ditched them just now.

The door unceremoniously banged open ten minutes later, and tottered two ungraceful women who hissed to each other about elbows and knees. Clarke watched as Raven and Octavia argued about  _closing the door_  and then finally closing it before looking at her in anticipation.

She shrugged. "I don't know what you want, honestly. I've told you everything."

Raven scoffed, limping over to the bed and taking up the space that Clarke had moved over for her. "You've told us barely anything. I saw you rescue the princess that one time in Libya – I didn't know you became best friends with said princess." She grumpily unclasped the brace and tossed it to the side, one hand absentmindedly massaging the muscles.

"When's the last time you saw Jackson?" Clarke asked, gesturing at the leg.

"Two Sundays ago. Don't change the topic." The Latina huffed in appreciation when Octavia dragged over a chair to sit on it and placed her leg on her lap, taking over the massaging. "Is she good?"

"Good at what?"

Raven threw her a deadpanned look, unimpressed. "Sex."

"We did not have sex!" Clarke whisper-shrieked, smacking her best friend in the arm. "Oh my god, she's a princess, Raven!"

"Doesn't mean she's dry as a Sahara desert down there. I'm pretty sure Prince Harry didn't stay celibate as a bachelor just because he's a prince," Raven easily retorted, waggling her eyebrows for good measure.

"We are not talking about Lexa's sex life right now. I feel like that's ground for treason or something."

Raven made a sound – the sound she usually made when she made a breakthrough with her latest pet project, triumphant and proud. She shared a look with Octavia, who was seemed pretty giddy herself. "She calls the princess  _Lexa_."

"You two are children." Clarke placed her phone facedown on the table, determined not to look at it as she turned to face her friends. "Look, I treated her in Libya. We talked. I haven't seen her since she came back and then I came back. And then we just ran into each other in the park last night. And that was that."

"I can't believe you went to the war and flirted with a princess. I should have gone with you," Octavia complained.

Raven emitted a noise of agreement, followed quickly by a long moan of approval, which only threw the three of them into giggle fits. The number of times this had happened with the three of them in the same room, some of them Raven did on purpose, Clarke was afraid to think about how many interns and nurses thought that they indulged in their own threesomes in the hospital on-call rooms.

Well, it wasn't like they did anything to stop the rumor mill. They denied the notion the first week, but since the interns were still talking about it and the nurses were still whispering about it after, Raven came out with the great idea of just going along with it. If the rumors wouldn't stop, might as well have a little fun with it.

And really, since Clarke and Octavia accidentally saw Raven place Nicolas Cage photo on all the toilet seats in the west wing restroom in junior year, they had pretty much resorted themselves to Raven's occasionally-reluctant partners in crime. Plus, watching the nurses' or interns' faces in horror when they eventually emerged from the on-call room was rather awesome.

Honestly, Clarke had only been back a month and she was already roped into this little shenanigan. To think that a Princess of Polis came all the way out to her apartment, without any sleep no less, for her number.

* * *

_Unknown (2:35a.m.): Busy?_

What was that people always said about assuming? Well, given that Clarke had forgotten about it, it gave her license to ignore it. Even though it was probably unsafe and dangerous and she might end up getting kidnapped or worse.

_Clarke (2:37a.m.): not even halfway thru my 48hr shift_

Raven and Octavia might have clicked their tongues at her in disapproval had they known how wide she had smiled and how clammy her palms had become when she saw the text. But alas, they had ditched her – one for home and the other to finish up her own shift – and so they were not around to bear witness to her moment of schoolgirl delight.

Her phone vibrated in her hand as soon as an intern rushed up to her with a chart and a litany of questions on his lips. This was a teaching hospital, she understood that. Part of her responsibilities was to teach these interns, she also understood that. Raising these interns to be doctors like her should make her feel proud, she understood that as well.

Under normal circumstances, she would have been happy to indulge. But it was wee hours in the morning where the sky was still dark and she had been waiting for this text for more than eighteen hours. She had been waiting for  _something_ for more than eighteen hours.

And now that she had something, this tiny innocent little intern just decided to get in the way of her joy like he had any right to do that.

"Leave her alone," Octavia popped up out of nowhere to drag the intern away. As she ignored the intern's protests, she threw the blonde a look that meant it wasn't an assist given freely.

Clarke was grateful nonetheless. She made sure that the emergency room was dealt with and she wasn't needed. If they needed her, they could page her. With that in mind, she ducked into a conveniently empty bay and drew the curtains before sitting on the bed.

_Unknown (2:37a.m.): Sounds brutal.  
Unknown (2:37a.m.): I think we should talk about your lack of self-preservation in terms of texting unknown numbers._

_Clarke (2:44a.m.): no one texts me at midnight except my stupid best friends and sometimes my mother lexa_

_Lexa (2:45a.m.): I'm not sure I want to be one of your stupid best friends._

She stuck a tongue out the corner of her lips, fingers ready to tap out a smartass answer, only to be stopped by another grey bubble popping up.

_Lexa (2:45a.m.): And I meant that in a kind of non-platonic way._

Her heart stopped.

_Lexa (2:45a.m.): Please tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable.  
Lexa (2:46a.m.): Because I can stop._

Fingers frozen marginally over the screen, the organ between her ears that served as the center of her nervous system could, in no coherent way, find a coherent answer to that message that wouldn't make her sound like an incoherent idiot. Clarke gently put the device facedown next to her on the bed and propped her elbows on knees as she buried her face in her hands.

Once again, she wondered if this was even a good idea at all. Should she even encourage this liaison? Maybe it would be more helpful if she just cut it off right there and then, when she still wasn't in too deep and found herself lost, when she could still see a way out of the tunnel – albeit the light seemed a little too far away now.

Clarke had managed to grow up sensibly and sanely under Abigail Griffin's shadow as one of the most accomplished surgeons in Polis, a woman who was currently chairing an up and coming international medical commission. She had been among the top ten in all her classes since she entered pre-school. Her medical degree was obtained through four hardworking years in Mayo Clinic and then another two years of houseman-ship before she was shipped off to Libya for two years as an army doctor. Hell, she had even  _had_ to save a princess' life with mediocre equipment and in a barely sterile operation theatre.

 _That_ should be the most difficult thing that Clarke had had to experience. Hell, any of those appeared plenty difficult. And yet, the doctor was stumped by a charming royalty who wasn't really even asking for anything but friendship and possibly – _if_ Clarke wanted to.

Which was exactly why Clarke picked up the device and typed her reply.

_Clarke (3:00a.m.): maybe u're not_

_Lexa (3:02a.m.): Maybe I'm not what?_

_Clarke (3:02a.m.): one of my stupid best friends_

_Lexa (3:06a.m.): Good to know._

Because despite her status as a princess, the authority she had because of her parents and her birthplace and the blood tracing her every cell, Lexa had never shown any sign of abusing that power – be it with Clarke or with the public. Everything that Lexa had said, since that night at the hospital until this morning, had been with utmost respect and never failed in asking for consent.

Clarke had met one too many entitled assholes in her life. She trusted Lexa not to be one.

And truth be told, she was already in too deep since the princess insisted on being addressed as 'Commander' while they were still in the warzone. The light at the end of the tunnel had long been snuffed out, and Clarke could only submit herself to this unknown territory and hope for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me about lesbians on my tumblr @ overcanary or twitter @ embettah. 
> 
> to those who read my a/n last chapter, thank you for helping this girl out! i really appreciate it!
> 
> to those who's not sure what i'm talking about, well, i'm kind of in a little bit of a snag here, and i could really use your help. long story short, i've recently been diagnosed with a disease called pcos and it's been kicking my butt. 
> 
> if you're kind enough, please visit my [tumblr](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me) to learn the full story and see how you can help out this girl right here :) thank you!


	4. bellum omnium contra omnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit an update in a week - i have surprised myself. well, i've written it and it is here, so might as well. one of you asked me last time how long it takes me to update and i can honestly just say: i don't know. i never know. all i can say is that i'll update when i update.
> 
> also, the feedback for last chapter wasn't as well as the previous chapters - was there anything about it that you didn't like? let me know! 
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_bellum omnium contra omnes [bel-lem om-neeh-um kon-tra om-nus]: the war of all against all._

* * *

 

"I cannot believe you!"

Thankfully enough, Lexa had enough training in the military to remember the most important part of being intruded – remain calm and observe as many points of escape and attack within the first five seconds. She didn't jump; she didn't yelp; she showed no sign of being surprised at being intruded in the middle of the afternoon so suddenly.

Instead, she just recalled the most efficient way to unlock the window and the best method to get out the door with minimal injury. She eyed the best non-lethal weapons in the room and strategized how best to utilize these weapons. Her non-dominant hand sneaked under her desk to grip the gun she had hidden in a compartment when she had first returned.

The tension and wariness and general distrust dissolved once she took note of  _who_ exactly had decided to barge into her office just like that. Her fingers relaxed from around the gun. The tightness of her facial features loosened into a mildly annoyed expression. Her eyes tracked Anya from the door to the bookshelf – her sister who was entirely unaware of the fact that Lexa might have pulled a gun on her had she been a more paranoid individual.

Not that Lexa was ever going to tell them that. Any of that.

The younger sister watched the white knuckled grip she had on the pen, almost with an outsider perspective, curious and bemused. She allowed another moment for her brain to catch up – the peace, the lack of guns and bullets, the needlessness to look over her shoulder at every second of the day – and then she stood up, abandoning the pen and massaging her knuckles absentmindedly.

"Elaborate, please," she retorted as she made her way behind the bar. "Bourbon?"

"God no." Anya spun around to look at her with mildly disguised disgust. "How do you drink that stuff?"

"You get what you get in the army." It sounded so casual, like she didn't give a shit, which was exactly what Lexa was aiming for.

Once Anya got her red wine and Lexa had her bourbon, they got themselves settled at the table set. Lexa stared mournfully at her desk full of paperwork, knowing that there was no way that she would be able to finish it all up if her sister had her way. And Anya always had her way.

"I just came back from my trip and had breakfast with our loving parents. And did you know the first thing our dearest father told us?"

She should probably not feel so delighted about this, but there was a reason that she and her father were so close. They both shared the same sense of childish humor with the capability of dealing with the most serious issues in the blink of an eye. And she had always enjoyed his need to be smug about the most mundane of things.

They went out on a nighttime walk once, Gustus and Ryder trailing behind them, with a whole team of secret service posing as commoners to watch out for them. It was two nights before her dispatch, and she asked him why that was. And he simply told her that as the royalty, there were things that they simply couldn't enjoy like the common people, such as walking on the streets at night with his daughter, so he just wanted to find delight in anything he could, such as knowing something stupid about anyone in his family before anyone else in said family did.

"You told our father about a girl you met before you told your own sister and mother!" Anya accused, appearing completely offended. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry I'm his favorite."

"He's a man."

"Anya Woods, are you being sexist right now?" Lexa gasped in mock offense. "Our parents did not raise us to be –"

"Don't you start that with me," Anya growled, pointing a finger at her.

Lexa had to laugh. Before she could answer though, it was hard to miss Lincoln's gigantic form strolling into the room, carrying an amused look on his face. Nice to know he wasn't as offended as her sister was, but not so nice to know that she still had no privacy even after years of being away.

"Okay, how did I miss this breakfast?" she pointed out as her brother proceeded to treat himself with a glass of scotch from  _her_ bar. "And get your own drinks!"

"You already had breakfast before any one of us was up," Lincoln simply answered as he settled next to the eldest on the couch. "Mom's coming, by the way."

"Oh my g –"

"Alexandria Woods!"

Her mother's shriek was followed closely by her father's evil cackles as he trailed her footsteps.

"Get out!"

She stood up, placing her tumbler on the coffee table and pointing at the door, as she glared at her family who just decided that barging into her office was just  _okay_  now. Her father's cackles stopped halfway and her mother startled back a step at her volume; they were all gaping at the youngest Woods, unused to her raising her voice even a fraction, let alone  _yell_.

She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten in her head while also reciting the range of weapons that were used by all armed forces in Polis alphabetically – a calming method taught by a senior sergeant when she was deployed in Iran. She would always be grateful for him for teaching her this, because there was no way she would have been able to soldier through all the crowds and the noises without placing the barrel of a gun in her mouth.

When she opened her eyes, they were all still gaping at her, though no longer as bemused. Alternatively, all she could discern on their faces were concern and bewilderment, which weren't much better.

Shit.

Lexa took a few deep breaths and avoided their eyes while her fingers carded through her hair, only to remember that she had it tied into a ponytail. She shook her hands by her side and when that didn't stop the shaking, she just shoved them into her pockets. She mustered a reassuring smile at them.

"Sorry, I just…" Drifting off, she realized she didn't know how to explain the outburst. "I didn't mean to do that."

"Honey –" Queen Storme hesitated and then approached her daughter until she had Lexa's face in her hands "– are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay, Mom." Despite that, Lexa still reached up to hold onto her mother's wrists – and Lexa was never a tactile person.

It was an indicative enough of a movement that Storme looked over her shoulder to share a look with her husband. Lexa pretended she didn't see that; pretended that her sister didn't seem all too perturbed at her outburst; pretended that her brother wasn't staring at her like she was a total stranger.

She had been pretending for six months to spare her family the details; she could pretend more. God willing, she'd pretend for the rest of her life if it meant that the people close to her wouldn't realize the gravity of her experience when she was overseas.

One swift movement extracted her from her mother's gentle grip and put suitable distance between herself and her family. She couldn't help but cast a chaste glance at her desk, where the gun was still secured. She offered them another reassuring smile, hoping earnestly that they would let it go.

"I'm really sorry," she said. "I was just working and it was getting a little too noisy and I snapped. I'm sorry."

"Lexa –"

"This girl is still…new." Lexa fought a shudder at the thought of Clarke.  _God_ , there was no better word to describe her than 'new'. "I don't really know her quite well yet, but I like her." She didn't have to hide the smile, or act like the smile was anything other than one of enjoyment.

Hopefully, this tactic would work on the rest of them just as it did with her father. Distract them for a little longer while she used the extra time to pull herself together. If anything, this smile should tell them she was working her way towards it. What exactly, she wasn't sure yet, but something better than this.

"I'd really appreciate it if you just let me see where it goes before bombarding me with questions I can't answer."

"Of course, honey," the matriarch of the house said before any of them could butt in, who added on with a stern stare at her children and her husband. "Go with your own pace." Storme's fidgeting fingers and twitching cheek were indicative of her desire to say more, maybe ask more. But thankfully, she just took a deep breath and smiled at her daughter. "We'll just leave you to it."

Lexa nodded, clenching her hands into fists in her pockets. Watching the door close behind Lincoln almost felt like that lightness whenever they defused an accidental IED planted by an insurgent in the tracks – Lexa hated it.

* * *

After making sure that the bill of her cap was tugged low enough to conceal her face, Lexa entered the McDonald's three blocks away from the palace and heaved a sigh of relief when she saw that there was barely anyone in the establishment. Plus, the ability to place an order on the electronic stations made it easier for her to hide herself and not risk exposure.

"They should make McDonald's breakfast an all-day thing," she remarked glumly into the phone pinned between her head and her shoulder.

"It's a thing in Australia," Clarke replied with a laugh.

"Well, we're not in Australia."

But of course, the universe had to play with her a little bit and the boy recognized her despite the cap when he handed over her order. And for the next few seconds, Lexa watched as he choked on his own saliva and made comical noises that she thought could only be heard in cartoons.

Clarke hummed and Lexa ignored the flutter in her stomach at the sound distorted over the phone. "I don't know. I think I'd take Polis over Australia, even if we don't have all-day McDonald's breakfast."

Lexa allowed him a few seconds to gather himself before she smiled at him and pressed a finger to her lips. To maximize effects, she added on a wink for good measure.

Because even when she was a big damn lesbian and there was no way she'd be interested in him, she had also learned that a lot of people didn't much care for it. They just saw her looks and swoon for her, regardless of her sexuality, and she wasn't ashamed to admit that she had used it to her advantage many times in the past – and definitely many times in the future.

"Well, you're too kind," Lexa said cheekily, biting her lip unintentionally.

"You're not the government."

As expected, he just swallowed and nodded eagerly with a sheepish smile. She figured he deserved something for not automatically propelling himself into five minutes of Twitter fame by announcing her presence in his McDonald's, so she easily plucked the pen from his shirt pocket over the counter and signed her name on a tissue paper.

She stuck her tongue out at the disapproving stare Gustus was sending her as they walked out of the establishment with her order in hand. She glanced up at the sky and allowed an inadvertent smile to appear when she saw the stars sprinkling the dark expanse – a sight for sore eyes, as it were.

"Excuse me, I will have you know that this nation is one of a kind."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know." Lexa could practically hear Clarke's eyes roll. "It's all collaborative and there's no excluding any particular governmental force. I know."

"Good to know you studied."

"I had to." There was scuffling and a few grunts over the connection; Lexa slowed her stride when she neared a particular bench, nodding at Gustus before sitting down and placing the McDonald's paper bag beside her. "I couldn't very well send myself into a warzone – albeit, it was a military hospital – without knowing anything about  _why_  I'm entering the warzone."

"Hey, military hospitals are important. I would know."

Clarke was quiet for awhile, and Lexa imagined she probably wasn't expecting Lexa's answer.

To be honest, the brunette herself wasn't sure what had gotten into her. She had never been this outright and brazen –  _never_. Sure, she was proactive and she was good at leading, but when it came to relationships, she was always the one being approached and not the one doing the approaching. Lexa Woods just wasn't a people person.

Even when she first gotten together with Costia, it was Costia who sidled up to her with a glass of champagne and a tray of hors d'oeuvres she stole from a waiter. Lexa had been attracted to her, yes, but she was also a little too shy for her own good, so she didn't know how to interact with this girl who thought it was totally normal to just shove a tray of snacks into the princess' face and practically demand that they test it out together.

Costia was an old story, something that was stashed into a chest and meant to only serve as a reminder when seen. She was beautiful and intelligent and graceful, probably more fit to be a princess than Lexa ever would be – and Lexa had loved her as much as one could love a first love. And for that, she didn't think she'd ever be able to fully forgive the media for ruining their relationship with its lack of tack.

"Plus, there's this girl I met and she's like a big deal in the country I was born in, so I thought it's probably best I brush up on the politics in the Polis, you know," Clarke said, tugging Lexa out of her thoughts.

"Big deal, huh?"

"That's what I heard."

Lexa's eyes caught onto a figure strolling down the path where she was seated and her grin grew bigger. "Well, you better make sure you learn enough to deserve a seat in the Senate."

"I think I'd enjoy being a doctor more."

Lexa hummed. "Yeah, I bet. You got to see a princess naked up close."

And at 2.36 in the morning, on a random bench in Philly Park in a country where the people had either gone to sleep or just started their day, a trilling laughter broke the air as she listened to her phone companion sputter on the other side of the connection. The figure from the distance had grown much closer during that time.

Their eyes met when Clarke lifted her head, and then Lexa winked, adding on a "Hi."

The blonde clicked off her phone as she stared at Lexa with a mixture of disbelief and irritation. Then she just rolled her eyes and proceeded to join the princess on the bench, eying the McDonald's takeout bag with a deadpan expression.

"You're impossible," she finally remarked, reaching into the bag and coming with a handful of fries.

"That's what my mother tells me. Go ahead. Help yourself."

"Oh my god,  _nuggets_."

The princess could only watch with barely concealed secondhand happiness as her new in-the-flesh companion dug into the McDonald's bag like her life depended on it. She had seen the doctor calm and professional; flustered; middle of the night messy but still kind of radiant in her own way; and now hungry and shameless.

Lexa had yet to see Dr. Clarke Griffin in a light that she didn't like, and she suspected she probably wouldn't for a long time.

"Don't take my Big Mac though," Lexa belatedly warned when she saw Clarke's hand sneaking out a familiar packaging.

The blonde dutifully dropped it and went on to dig around for the other burger. Soon enough, they were both digging into their respective burgers, chucking a few fries and snacking on nuggets in between. The crickets made their presence known amongst the bushes and the trees. A certain distance away, Gustus was smoking on what was perhaps his third stick of cigarette, the McDonald's takeout she got for him forgotten by his side.

Clarke had just disposed of the wrapping and continued her rampage on the fries when she asked, "So what are you doing here?"

"Taking a walk."

Lexa tried not to squirm under the blonde's scrutiny, but it was becoming quite a feat when Clarke didn't relent in her narrowed eyes and disbelieving hum. She bemoaned the Big Mac that she had just devoured and then switched her focus over to the fries, avoiding striking blue eyes at all costs.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"I have to head over to Sangeda tomorrow."

The silence that ensued wasn't all that silent. Lexa was hoping that Clarke would take it, bite onto the bait  _knowingly_ , and let her be guided away from her suspicion. On the other hand, Clarke – the intelligent person that she was – was probably debating whether she should pursue the subject or follow Lexa's lead.

What the blonde didn't know was that the ball was actually in her court, despite the princess' obvious effort to direct the conversation far away from her late night habits. If Clarke decided to not chomp onto the lame bait that Lexa had dangled in front of her, then Lexa would be honest. She didn't know why, she didn't want to know why yet, but she would.

Whatever Clarke wanted to know, Lexa would offer.

The doctor released a sigh. "Why are you going to Sangeda?"

Composure was key here; she couldn't let Clarke see exactly how relieved she was that Clarke went along with it. So she just lifted her eyes and offered a shrug. "Remember that program I've been telling you about?"

"Yeah," Clarke followed with a nod. "I remember thinking that you're really amazing for doing this for all those families out there."

"There's this husband. He has a kid with a heart condition and he really needs the money to get her through the rest of the year. I just wanna – I wanna see this little girl. I wanna look this little girl in the eye and tell her that her mother was very brave and heroic. I wanna look this little girl in the eye and tell her that she has nothing to worry about except to make her parents proud. I wanna look this little girl in the eye and…" Drifting off, she cleared her throat and looked away from the doctor. "I wanna look this little girl in the eye and tell her how sorry I am for sending her mother away and never bringing her back."

"Oh Lexa."

Suddenly, the brunette found herself ensconced in warmth and tenderness that she had only ever experienced that one time when her mother slept in her bed to scare away the monster in her closet. What surprised her more was that she just naturally sank into the touch, gave herself permission to be enveloped in this fireplace warmth that she had deprived herself since the moment she made her first kill.

Because she had made those kills. She had killed for the first time, and she followed with more kills – pulls of triggers, thrusts of knives, simple bludgeons with her fists. She had done it all. She had seen it all. She had taken lives. She had deprived other families – husbands, wives, children, fathers, mothers – of their hugs from their loved ones, regardless of whether those loved ones deserved to die or not.

In return, she didn't deserve this kind of affection, physical or emotional. When she had realized that killing made her feel no remorse any longer, she threw up into a bucket and told herself to make up for it by divesting herself from situations like this.

It was then that she remembered the promise she made herself – the only way of redemption that she could think of. And she snapped out of Clarke's arms and leaped to her feet, her lungs shrinking rapidly beneath her ribs and her cane forgotten as she stumbled on the grass and dug her calloused fingers into the soil, the mud finding homes under her nails.

Her ears rang and rang and rang, explosions and yells and cries and bullet rounds creating a crescendo of chaos that sank into her nerves and imploded her sense of reality. She would have taken off her jacket and sweater and cap and everything else to relieve herself from the burning that scalded everywhere had she not been frozen in place.

_500 MILS. DSR-1. HS2000. M16. M1911. M249 SAW. M4. M4 Carbine. MP5. SR-25. XM2010._

Muffled voices came clearer. Hands grabbed on her forearm, gentle but firm. Another hand brushed across her forehead over and over again, stroking her skin and soothing her with its repetition.

She repeated the weapons one more time, imagined them one more time, and then it all became clearer.

"You're in Philly Park, four miles away from the palace, located in Polis, your home country. Listen to my voice, okay? This is Gustus Ashby, your bodyguard and a pain in your ass. Clarke's here too. Clarke Griffin, the pretty blonde doctor that saved your life in Libya. Okay? You hear me? You're in Philly Park, four miles away –"

Gustus only stopped in his dutiful chants when she found enough strength to raise a hand. The gentle hand on her forehead stopped in its movement, but the thumb didn't stop stroking her temple, which she was thankful for.

She blinked rapidly and found herself staring at a hand that had managed to dig deep enough into the soil that there would be a permanent park there. Slowly releasing her grip on the fistful of dirt, she inhaled a shaky breath before lifting her head to see Clarke kneeling before her, one arm extended hesitantly in her direction while the other hand cupping her head.

Oh  _god_.

"Fuck," she whispered, lowering her head again.

"No, no fuck." She looked up again, frowning in confusion at the firmness in Clarke's tone and determined expression on her features. "You're –" Clarke exhaled harshly and shook her head. "You should go home," she implored.

Lexa gulped. She had scared the blonde away. She'd done it. Goddamn it. Still, she wasn't going to scare the doctor anymore than she already had, so she just pushed herself to her feet, refusing the help that her bodyguard and the blonde were offering her. It took a lot of effort, and she felt like she could inhale an entire tank of oxygen at the end of it, but she was on her feet.

She gazed at the doctor again, committing all features to memory because there was no way she'd ever be seeing Clarke again if the blonde had any choice in it. And Lexa was the last person to want to make Clarke feel uncomfortable.

She should have stuck with the phone calls and the text messages. The past three days had been almost blissful with the constant text alerts and the occasional calls whenever Clarke was not on shift. Talking to the blonde had really done something to calm Lexa down, which was something she had been seeking since the moment she came back home and experienced her first nightmare in the calm of home.

But she just had to be an idiot and buy the doctor goddamn  _McDonald's_ , all because she missed seeing Clarke's face. And now she would have no chance because the fight or flight system in her core had decided to activate itself, and she would never fight Clarke under any circumstances.

Fucking McDonald's.

* * *

"What's this?"

Lexa looked up from the card she was writing on and found her sister standing next to her, glancing down at the same card. She ignored Anya and signed her name, not even caring that Anya was reading the message, before handing it over to the maid. The maid scurried away, having already memorized the instructions that Lexa had given her about the card and the bouquet waiting to be delivered at the front door.

"Lexa, are you okay?" Anya asked.

The youngest sibling pulled on her coat and relieved her hair from under the confines. "Yeah, I'm good." She turned to her sister and said, "I'm sorry about the other day."

Anya blinked at Lexa before her brows set into a frown. "You don't have to apologize."

"I do."

"No, you don't," her sister said more firmly, clasping her hands over Lexa's arms. "Just…talk to me. Talk to anyone."

"I –" The brunette thought back to mere hours ago, when Clarke had been so prepared to get away from Lexa. She inhaled deeply and released her breath through her mouth, shaking her head. "I'm fine, I promise. I have a plane to catch."

"Lexa –"

"I'll catch up with you when I get back tomorrow, okay?"

Before Anya could pry her with more questions, she ducked out of the room and down the maze of corridors until she reached the front door. All the while, her hand gripping the phone in her coat pocket tightly, hoping and wishing and waiting  _desperately_ for it to vibrate, even when she knew full well that it wouldn't.

Gustus did not say a word when she got into the back of the car and drove. He hadn't said anything since the things he said to bring her back aboveground. She could tell that he wanted to, but she was still thankful that he kept his mouth shut. She didn't think she was ready to hear whatever he had in his mind.

All she could do now was hope that Clarke would forgive her, even if she didn't want to see Lexa again. Forgiveness from afar was better than nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just really like writing angst, okay? 
> 
> i don't have ptsd, i don't know anyone with ptsd, this is written based on what little research i've done. if you could show me the way, i'd be forever thankful. if there's anything wrong with my portrayal, i'm more than happy to listen.
> 
> come yell at me about lesbians and angst on my [tumblr](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me) :)


	5. audeamus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um...happy new year? wow.
> 
> i fully intended to upload this chapter during the new year week, but my grandmother became really sick - turned out she had dementia - and i was too busy taking care of her and explaining everything to the rest of my family that i couldn't get around to writing it. and then two weeks ago, her suffering ended and she passed away, so then there was the funeral and all of that. after that, i was just too sad to even focus on anything but grieving and getting used to the absence of my grandmother in the house.
> 
> i'll be honest - i'm still not used to it; i am still sad. and it was pretty difficult to come up with this chapter, but i figured that life goes on, and i have to move on. so maybe this chapter may not be as up to par as you might expect, i tried my best. i can't promise when i'll post next, but i promise you i won't abandon this fic.
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_audeamus [oh-dee-mas]: let us dare._

* * *

 

Clarke was striding through the emergency room doors and staring down at her phone with her lower lip caught on her teeth as she debated whether it was too soon or too late to say something. She decided that it was a debate that could wait for a little while longer when she reached the nurses' station, prepared to see what the latest reports had for her regarding her patients, only to be confronted right in the face with a colorful bouquet.

Her hand that had been holding the phone was tucked into her back pocket, suddenly frozen, as she reached out with the other one to finger the petals of a purple orchid amongst the many flowers. In the midst of considering a pale white hyacinth, one of her best friends sidled up to her right, tapping a tablet stylus to her lips as she made a humming noise.

"Wow, I can't believe she managed to piss you off already. That's some record," Raven commented, leaning in closer as if it would help her see gigantic bouquet better.

"She didn't –" Clarke narrowed her eyes and glared at the other woman momentarily.

Then she snatched the card that she had only just noticed before Raven could get her claws on it. She gave Raven another warning glare, obviously telling her to back off, before opening it.

_Dear Clarke,_

_I don't know how else to apologize for my behavior last night except for the best apology bouquet that the best florist in the city can assemble. Please understand my sincere regret over what happened last night._

_Wishing you well,  
Lexa_

No 'may we meet again', or anything that indicated a potential future for whatever it was burgeoning between them. Clarke reread those words in an attempt to find an indication –  _whatever_ – that could give her some hope.

All she saw was a deep found apology and an end note.

It was only when a tanned hand slipped into her vision to get ahold of the card and  _fail_ to tug it off her grasp that Clarke realized how hard she was holding onto the card – the scented card that smelled like Lexa's cologne and lavender – so much so that the perfect sides were permanently crinkled.

Allowing her best friend to take the card, Clarke stared at the bouquet again, deciding that she hated it if this was the beginning of the end – or maybe the end of the end. She huffed, finding herself irrationally pissed off at a goddamn  _bouquet_ that was meant with the best of hearts – then she realized that maybe it wasn't the bouquet that she was pissed at.

"What happened last night?" Raven's inquisitive voice penetrated her muddled brain.

Brushing her hand over her face and then tugging the digits through her hair roughly, she released a frustrated groan, stomped her feet, snagged the bouquet and the card, and stormed out of the emergency room. She needed more time to think before she could grace existing and incoming patients with her decidedly unfair temperament today.

* * *

"' _Wishing you well_?'"

"Clarke, I –"

"I don't need you to wish me well. I'm doing really damn well, thank you very much!" she trampled on as she paced in circles on the stairwell landing, not really caring if her voice would carry outside to passersby.

When Clarke had seen on the television hanging on the wall in the waiting area that Lexa had landed in Sangeda, she didn't even hesitate. The patients could wait, the interns could look for another attending; she just needed to expel her anger at the right person before she truly exploded – she was well aware that it was unprofessional behavior, but better to let it all out than to subject innocents to her explosive nature, right?

She rushed through the door to the staircase and dialed the latest number in her phone, allowing the thought of the bouquet carefully stashed in her locker – they  _were_ beautiful, after all – to fuel her anger once again. It didn't take long for the call to be picked up, and she didn't allow the woman on the other end of the line to say a word, even if she was the princess.

"'Wishing you well' makes it sound like you don't expect to see me again."

She waited for it: the clever retort verging on flirtation that Lexa seemed to be so well versed at. Only something like that would be able to help in alleviating the lingering concerns she had for the princess, but she couldn't directly voice her concerns and allow the brunette to think that she wasn't angry anymore, because she very much was.

Except nothing like that came. The line was quiet and Clarke would have thought that all sounds have been sucked into vacuum if it weren't for the echoes of her sneakers squeaking on the floor and her harsh breathing. And at that, the blonde found herself increasingly irrationally angry and her grip over her phone tightened all the more. So much that it was considered lucky that the device hadn't just crushed.

" _Wow_."

Lexa sighed and Clarke heard her mutter something or other to someone else before she said, "I just didn't think you'd want to –"

"What?" Clarke cut her off. "Be around you after I watched you have a panic attack in the middle of the night at my favorite park?"

The princess was quiet momentarily. "Yeah." It came out meek and resigned, so unlike the confident Lexa that Clarke had gotten used to despite their short acquaintanceship.

That single syllable, unbefitting of the tough princess often portrayed through the media and totally expected from an honorably discharged soldier, soft and scared, was enough to break Clarke's composure. Enough for the layers of anger to dissolve into ash.

She leaned against the railing of the stairs and looked down at her worn sneakers, noticing the cracks in the soles and the dirt gathering on the laces, hoping that Lexa wasn't in Sangeda right now. Only so Clarke could look her in the face when she said this.

"Lexa, you had a panic attack," she said as gently as possible, knowing full well that Lexa wouldn't really be able to understand what she was trying to say without looking at her.

"I know I had a panic attack."

Clarke closed her eyes at the way Lexa's tone took a turn for the worse, more closed off and defensive, as if Clarke had just accused her of some crime. Her years of dealing with similar situations – patients and soldier friends she had made when she was at the hospital – taught her to wait it out.

Give it time. However much time they needed. These things were not meant to be rushed, and Clarke found herself caring for Lexa a little too much that she was less willing to risk it.

As a matter of fact, she was already feeling guilty for yelling at Lexa earlier. Because it was irrational and Lexa didn't deserve it. After all, Clarke  _had_ been the one to push the princess to go home without really offering any reassurance for their friendship.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you," she shifted, figuring that Lexa needed it.

"No, you were right to yell at me."

"No, I wasn't."

"Clarke –"

"Look, it's not my first time, okay? What happened was not my first time."

All Lexa had to offer was a long pause. So long that Clarke kind of thought that the woman had hung up and she had to take a look at the screen to make sure that they were still connected.

So maybe Lexa was really that scared. Clarke had only known the woman to be funny, humorous, flirty, and bold; nothing like this. Briefly, as she gathered her thoughts and figured the next best move so as not to scare way the woman any more than she already was, she wondered who else had gotten to see the princess so vulnerable.

She had also never expected for the ball to be in her court most of the time when she had befriended the princess in the first place. And this, she totally blamed the media for. Wrongful portrayal and all that. Then again, she could also blame Lexa for always putting on a tough front for the camera and giving the people a false illusion.

"You can't scare me away that easily, okay?" When Lexa still hadn't said a word, Clarke persisted, "Okay, Lexa?"

The brunette's sigh was indication enough that Clarke had won this round. "Okay."

"Look, I don't think it's very convenient for us to talk about this over the phone."

"You called me," Lexa sassed back.

Clarke rolled her eyes. The princess just couldn't resist, could she? "Yeah, because you 'wished me well'."

Lexa snorted and Clarke warmed over, glad that at least Lexa was relieved enough for now to let down her guard. It was all she could ask for with this limited connection between them.

"I was being polite," the brunette argued.

While a retort was already hanging on her tongue, real world decided to interfere by vibrating her pager hanging onto her pants, reminding her of its presence so she could snap out of the trance she always found herself in whenever Lexa was in the picture. She grumbled gibberish to herself as she took a look at the device.

"I have to go," she sighed, pinning the pager back to her pants again and making her way out of the emergency exit to the corridor in the peds department. "Make me proud with whatever you're doing in Sangeda. And remember, you can't scare me away that easily," she reminded the other woman as she stood by the elevator and waited for one to reach her floor.

"Yes, ma'am."

"We'll talk when you come back."

"Okay."

Even over the phone, Clarke could hear the smile tugging on Lexa's lip as she agreed to Clarke's practical demand. When they finally hung up and Clarke was confronted with a woman impaled with a kitchen knife in her abdomen in the ER, she had to fight the grin from making an appearance on her face and offending the victim.

* * *

She had just dismissed a herd of interns following her after tending to a patient when she saw the person entering the lobby. If this was a cartoon and shoes could make those screeching noises when they abruptly stopped, Clarke was certain that hers would have stopped movement in the entire floor. Thankfully enough, her sneakers were nice today and only managed a small squeak as she made an abrupt turnaround and hid behind a wall.

Peeking her head around the corner, she watched Abby Griffin locate the directory easily and browsing it, though Clarke would bet a kidney on the only two possibilities that her mother would be looking for in that directory. Wary eyes tracked the Griffin matriarch from the directory to the elevators and into a car.

She whipped her phone out as soon as the doors slid closed and called Raven, only to be left at dial tone. Stupid Raven. What could be more important than her best friend panicking about her mother's appearance in the hospital she deliberately chose to work in to avoid said woman? When another call left her the dial tone again, she made a vow to put Raven on friendship probation before calling the next best person.

"You're lucky Sydney just left," Octavia said in lieu of a proper greeting, not that Clarke was in mood for one anyway.

"My mother's here."

Octavia gave a pause, which was appropriate, in Clarke's opinion. "Your mother like the one Raven has a crush on?"

" _Do not_ say it like that!" Clarke hissed, squeezing her eyes shut at the horrible reminder.

"Oh please, chill out. It's just a crush. Besides, she and my brother are too busy doing the whole skinny love thing to even care about other people," Octavia added a little grumpily, as she had been since she found out about that time Raven and Bellamy had sex in college.

"That's not important right now."

"You're right. What is important is whether Raven knows your mother is here. Maybe she can stop pining after my brother and shift her attention full time."

Clarke released a groan, one loud and frustrated enough to give a passing pregnant lady pause. The doctor offered a placating smile before restoring the glare she had towards the person she was talking to. "You're not being very helpful."

"I honestly don't know how helpful I can be. Abby Griffin scares the shit out of me."

Stomping a foot on the floor before getting away from the wall – the danger had moved to higher floors on the premises so there was no need to hide anymore – Clarke headed towards the coffee cart and gestured at Joseph to prepare her regular order. Caffeine was definitely necessary if her mother was in the same building as her, even though they didn't speak to each other.

If she could help it, they wouldn't have to speak to each other for another week. And then her mother would probably show up at her apartment and demand they have brunch together. It was like clockwork now.

"Do you know why she's here?" Clarke asked.

"Uh, not really. I mean, I don't talk to your mother, because, like I said, Abby Griffin scares the shit out of –"

"What?" Clarke squinted as she handed over the cash to Joseph and accepted the piping hot cup of espresso with a grateful grimace. Octavia didn't respond. Either Sydney was there or Octavia was dead. "What is it, O?"

"Um," Octavia trailed off; Clarke could practically hear her fingers creating a random rhythm on the hardwood material of the desk. "I think Raven…"

"What about Raven, Octavia?" Oh god, maybe Raven actually slept with her mother. Oh fuck. She could see the whites creeping in at the edges of her vision, and maybe this was what Lexa felt last night.

"She may have mentioned you and Lexa to your mother."

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief. So relieved that she had immediately sagged against another random wall and slid down onto her haunches, probably scaring the old man waiting to be picked up near the entrance. She didn't care about that right now; at least her mother and her best friend did not knock boots together, that was the point.

Well, it was, until what Octavia had just told her sank in. She went rigid, posture getting a straight as possible as she refused to get off her haunches. She sipped heartily at the espresso and tossing it in the trashcan that was conveniently next to her, marginally feeling the caffeine sinking into her veins and giving her the energy to deal with the storm that was probably marching her way to the attending lounge right now.

"I'm gonna kill her."

"Okay, I understand you're pissed, but maybe consider that she's already lost a leg."

Clarke hummed, nodding to herself as she pondered Octavia's observation. "I'm gonna break her other leg," she decided.

" _Clarke_."

But Clarke had already hung up. She stood up and pocketed her phone. If there was ever a time for a multiple car crash in the city, now would probably be a good time.

* * *

As it turned out, Abby Griffin wasn't in the attending lounge – according to a cardiothoracic attending who was still a little shell shocked at her version of an idol's appearance in their hospital, her mother had only hummed in disdain at her absence and proceeded to take the elevator to where the office of the Chief of Surgery was. Clarke couldn't figure out if that was worse or better.

She was already in the elevator, preparing to make her way to Marcus Kane's office and face the music sooner or later, when Diana Sydney got into the same car as her and monotonously informed her that Dr Abby Griffin was currently observing Dr Kane's craniotomy surgery in OR 4. That was exactly the moment that Clarke decided it was worse.

As a nurse, Sydney was not the most friendly and sometimes there were even rumors that she was planning a coup against Kane, which was ridiculous, but Clarke had also learned that Sydney rarely ever lied. And as informed, Clarke found her mother sitting in the viewing gallery. Front row, no less.

She resisted the urge to gag and found her way to the front row as well, sitting next to her mother and making a show of how much the woman's presence wasn't freaking her out when the truth was she really wanted to get the hell out of there.

She watched the purpose of this viewing gallery. Analyzing the way the man who used to give her rides on his shoulders precisely execute the blade and the organ. Wondering how her relationship with Marcus Kane had become so strained. Ignoring her mother's stare into the side of her head.

An hour and a half later, Marcus had finished suturing up his patient and tossed a look up at the gallery; Clarke didn't need to guess whom exactly he was looking for approval from. The woman next to her stood up and just squeezed Clarke's shoulder with a stern hand before heading out.

Clarke sighed and followed her mother until they entered Marcus' office, aware that the man wouldn't be in his office for awhile because post-op procedures took time. Abby poured two glasses of water and Clarke just stood there, like a child waiting to be lectured, as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Honestly, she was twenty-seven. She should be better than this.

"I heard something interesting from Raven a couple of days ago," Abby started off as she made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs, gesturing for Clarke to sit down on the other one.

Clarke sat down, quiet.

"Why didn't I know about you saving Princess Lexa's life in Libya?" Wait, was that it? Did Raven tell Abby only that? If so, maybe Clarke could spare her leg and just settle for a toe.

The younger Griffin bit her lip, not sure how to answer her mother's question without offending the woman.

"It could have done so much for your reputation as a doctor if I had known. I could have used that –"

"I didn't want you to," Clarke cut her off.

Abby frowned, clearly confused.

"I saved the princess' life because it was the right thing to do. It was my job. Not because I wanted the fame and the things you could do with what  _I_ did."

"Clarke, you're not thinking clearly."

"Oh, I was and am thinking very clearly. I know you very well, Mom – that's why I didn't tell you. I even told Raven and Octavia to not tell you about it."

"What exactly are you –"

Clarke stood up, not wanting to hear any further. Plus, if she could avoid any further conversation that could lead her into accidentally revealing her friendship with Lexa, she would do that. And right now, getting the hell out of this room and as far away as Abby as possible was that. She gave her mother a placating kiss on the cheek and headed for the door.

"I have patients, Mom. And I'm sure you have lunch plans with Dr Kane." She could barely make herself say that with a poker face, but she pulled through.

Knowing that her daughter was as stubborn as she was and this conversation would go nowhere further today, Abby only sighed and nodded. "See you for brunch on Sunday." It wasn't a request, but an order.

So Clarke just nodded and got out of the office as fast as possible.

* * *

_Lexa (5:32p.m.): When did wishing someone well become criminal?_

Clarke snorted at the text and looked up from her phone when someone called her name. It was Finn Collins, and Clarke was honestly confused as to what the universe had against her for constantly sending people she didn't want near her to her. She heaved a sigh through her nose and offered a strained smile at the idiot bumbling towards her.

He was lugging a gym bag at his side and his floppy hair tied into a manbun. There couldn't be more of a fuckboy representative even if they tried. Since she started working at this hospital and had the displeasure of being introduced to him, she found herself consistently questioning how much he had to pay to get certified as a doctor.

"What can I do for you, Dr. Collins?"

He scoffed. "Oh please, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Finn?"

"Many more, I guess," she deadpanned.

He blinked, obviously taken aback by her bored response. But kudos to him, he regained composure easily and laid on that easy grin of his that had worked on many a lady before, but definitely not her. She mostly just found it sleazy and oily and would give anything to permanently wipe it off his face.

"I ran into your mother today."

Oh  _fuck_.

Clarke restrained herself from making a physical display of exactly how she felt about that bit of information. Instead, the hand on the strap of her sling bag tightened so much that she could feel the imprints of her nails on her palm. On her face, she only offered a tight smile and waited for him to go on, because that was the thing about Finn: he loved hearing himself talk.

"She mentioned something about brunch on Sunday…"

She lost him at that point, already feeling her blood freeze over. Her eyes tracked his lips moving but her ears weren't absorbing anything. Instead, she had pretty much tuned him out, choosing instead to plot ways of revenge against her mother for trying, once again, to set her up with this imbecile, no matter how many times she had  _explicitly_ said that nothing about this man attracted her to him.

For some reason, Abby Griffin had taken one look at Finn Collins on her first time visiting this hospital since Clarke had started working there and taken a shine on him, resolute on the idea of him being her son-in-law. Clarke supposed that even at her age, her mother wasn't immune to his so-called irresistible charms.

Though really, Clarke couldn't see it. She tried looking for the charms, even peeked into the garbage once when he passed by a nurse and she just straight up swooned, but found nothing.

"…flowers? Or does she like chocolate?"

"Nope."

Finn paused, blinked a couple of times, and then exuded a confused laugh. "Nope, as in she doesn't like flowers or chocolate?"

She stared at him for a longer moment, tracing his eyes and nose and the smile on his lips, giving him one last chance and attempting to locate the  _charm_. When she couldn't find it, she crossed her arms and displayed the most polite smile she could muster. "Nope, as in you're not going to brunch."

"But your mother invited –"

"Uninvite yourself," she said, starting to turn around and making for the door.

"I can't –"

"Yes, you can. Uninvite yourself, Dr. Collins. You're not going to brunch on Sunday. Or any day!" She threw over her shoulder and didn't give him any chance to retort as the doors slid closed behind her and she sped walk to her car.

_Clarke (5:40p.m.): its criminal when it sounds like u tryna have a clean break w/ me_

She stayed in her car for a few minutes as she allowed herself the privilege of huffing and puffing at her mother's audacity. Even a hospital away, Abby Griffin still couldn't get the hint that Clarke really just wanted her to stop meddling.

When she had first come back from her tour, there were already two attending position offers waiting for her – one at Silver Hill Hospital and another at East Grace General. It wasn't a difficult choice to pick the establishment where her mother  _didn't_ work. She had thought working with Marcus Kane again would be fun. Had, being the operative word, given that she found out that the Chief of Surgery was actually courting Abby Griffin on her third day of working there.

It was already too late by then. But at least she didn't have to see her mother every day, which was something that Clarke never took for granted.

Still, after everything that had happened today, Clarke had to wonder whether she had to sign up for another tour and maybe head over to a hospital farther away than Libya for her mother to just give up trying to control her life. It was probably not the noblest of intention, but she was certain that the King wouldn't mind as long as she was saving lives.

Plus, she had an in with his daughter.

_Lexa (5:42p.m.): I could very well just want you to be…well._

Clarke snorted.

_Clarke (5:42p.m.): cut the bs lexa woods u thought u scared me off_

_Lexa (5:43p.m.): I wouldn't blame you if I did._

The doctor sighed at the text and rolled her eyes fondly at the person she was texting with. Sure, she might not know Lexa much, but for as much as she had learned about the princess, Lexa was extremely self-deprecating and did not prioritize herself enough. Something that could be seen through her negligence when it came to sleeping and now, this.

_Clarke (5:46p.m.): ure forgetting that im a trauma surgeon and ive been in the field_

It wasn't an outright rejection of Lexa's proverbial overture of a way out for Clarke before she went too deep into their friendship. What the veteran didn't know was that Clarke didn't want to get out – maybe there wasn't even a way out anymore with exit behind her sealed shut voluntarily. So it may not be an outright rejection, but it implied the same thing until they could talk things out when Lexa returned.

* * *

"He's a good lay though."

There it was, the urge to gag. She wasn't sure what was worse – Raven's crush on her mother or the fact that Raven actually slept with Finn Collins, even if it was only once.

"I don't need to know that."

"So what's this I hear about you wanting to break my other leg?"

"Break which leg now?"

Clarke and Raven paused in their movements as the new addition, turning their gazes from one another to the princess standing outside her apartment door, her hulking bodyguard standing dutifully behind her. Somehow, she could feel Raven grabbing onto her arm and digging her talons into her skin.

The blonde yelped and yanked her limb out of the Latina's grasp. "Oh, so this is real then," Raven remarked, still gaping at Lexa.

Cupping her forehead with a hand, Clarke glowered at her slippers and shook her head. She finally looked up and almost wanted to swipe that smug look off Lexa's face. Shaking her head again, she turned to her best friend and waved a hand in front of the woman's face, glad to see that Raven wasn't so engrossed as to be completely ignorant to her surroundings.

Otherwise, Clarke might actually push her off the ledge just to sling Raven back to reality.

She turned back to the princess and said, "You gotta stop giving my friends heart attacks." Lexa's smile only widened and her shoulder lifted in a shrug, not at all apologetic. Clarke sighed. "What are you doing here?"

"I just got back from Sangeda and I thought we could talk," the brunette replied.

Clarke tilted her head. "I didn't see anything on the news."

"My plane landed like forty-five minutes ago."

Blue eyes gradually widened at the realization. A breathy squeal sounded from beside her, proving that she wasn't imagining it if Raven had realized it too.

It was only at Lexa's barely-there admission that Clarke made herself eyeball the woman in front of her – the signature dark brown coat, the leather jacket underneath, the slightly paler than healthy pallor, and the rumpled beige khaki pants. She found herself dumbly nodding for a few seconds before Gustus cleared his throat from behind Lexa, eying the doctor intentionally.

Clarke snapped out of her shock and told Raven, "Booze night's postponed. Tell Octavia."

"What? But –"

"On me, I promise," Clarke cut off Raven's protest. She made sure to look her best friend in the eye for the woman to understand how serious she was with this promise.

Raven heaved a frustrated groan and pointed a finger at Clarke, pretty much poking the blonde in the nose. "You owe me more than that."

"Yeah, we'll talk. Now go. Gustus, would you be so kind and escort my friend to her car? She's gone a dumb leg."

"Hey!"

She probably had no right to order Gustus to do anything – that was why she asked. But still, he had to turn to his charge for permission, and when Lexa nodded, he squeezed past all of them through the narrow hallway and nodded at Raven. Clarke shot Raven a sheepish smile and watched the two figures so different in sizes disappeared around the corner to the elevators.

And then she whirled back around to face Lexa, who seemed in severe need of caffeine and was about to drop dead right where she was. Clarke huffed, feeling the annoyance rise in her chest at the princess' disregard for her own health, and tugged her keys from her jacket pocket.

"This talk could have waited, you know," Clarke said, opening the door and letting Lexa in.

"Well, I missed you, so," Lexa threw back casually as she shouldered past the blonde into the apartment, leaving the doctor to freeze in response to her words, unsure of what to say. Meanwhile, the princess didn't seem to realize what she had just said and collapsed on the couch without waiting for Clarke's invitation. "This might be rude, but I would really like some coffee."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to be funny - i really did. i would really like to know your thoughts?
> 
> you can find me on twitter @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/embettah) and tumblr @ [overcanary](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me).


	6. ad meliora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *spongebob voice* one month later
> 
> yikes. with the whole grieving and the semester starting - i got a little too swamped that i forgot about this fic for a little while. but i promise that there will be updates, i just can't promise when anymore. i would rather not leave you guys hanging. still, i won't be one of those people who post a fic and then don't complete it. so this fic will definitely have an ending, but it'll probably be a decade from now lol
> 
> that's better than nothing, right?
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_ad meliora [æd muh-li-oh-rah]: towards better things._

* * *

Joshua Holbrook was reasonably flummoxed when he opened the door and saw the youngest Princess of Polis standing outside his door. Moreover, directly behind her stood a gigantic and quiet Gustus who insisted on the sunglasses, and lining up the driveway  _behind_  them were an array of Brigade men – the Polisian Secret Service – prepared to give up their life for the princess in a second's notice.

Not that she wanted it. After having been in the army and having more than enough men and women die instead of her, the last thing she wanted was for  _more_ people to sacrifice their lives for her. But her family were very insistent on it, especially her sister, surprisingly, saying that they had had to wake up not knowing what they were going to be told about Lexa for three tours – there was no way they were letting her out of their sight without being sure that she was  _safe_.

It was a pretty effective guilt trip, she would give them that.

Joshua stuttered in inviting her in. And they sat down and she went through the usual procedure of explaining this fresh program that was still in its infancy but would very much like to offer him membership in. Unlike the other widows and widowers that she had personally visited, he kept a stony face throughout, and she would have thought he was being ungrateful and was of half the mind to just rescind the offer.

That was, until he nodded curtly and asked her if she would like to meet his daughter. The kid was in her bedroom, building a mini city infrastructure with Lego pieces. On the bedside table sat bottles of pills and syrups.

She knelt down in front of Heather, getting the sense the girl didn't actually know who she was, which was perfect. They conversed a little, built some more tiny buildings, and Lexa knew that she couldn't stay any longer if she wanted to catch her flight.

So she held Heather's hands and looked into those big brown eyes and said, "I want you to know that your mommy was very brave and heroic. She went ahead and did something that we will  _always_ owe her for. I hope you are  _very_ proud of her. I also want you to know that you don't have to worry about your daddy or anything else. Just focus on what you like to do, be  _excellent_ at it, and make your parents proud, okay, Heather?"

When she was at the door, Joshua unexpectedly engulfed her in a hug, eliciting a yelp from her and probably a whole array of panic mode from her security team, particularly Gus. But as his body shook violently against her and her ears rang with his barely suppressed sobs, she could only hug him back.

On the flight, Lexa couldn't stop thinking about Heather and her brown eyes and the medication and the Lego pieces. She had hoped that this little thing she did could really contribute to a child's future. And she was so tired.

Logically, her exhaustion should have brought her home. But when they finally landed and Lexa and Gus got into the limo, the first thing she said to the driver was Clarke's address, her irate words over the phone still circling in the brunette's head.

Two days ago, when she had boarded the jet for Sangeda, she had lost all hope in any progress in her friendship with the doctor. In her mind, when one had borne witness to a panic attack, one would stay away. Clearly, she had underestimated Clarke, because she was in the middle of looking through the documents for Joshua Holbrook again when she got the call and became the recipient of an earful.

Clarke's promise had done something to Lexa – strengthened a sense of optimism that she thought had died with her leg. So now that she had infused hope in someone else, brought a sense of reassurance to a family, perhaps she deserved her own peace of mind herself. Because she knew that she would never be able to sleep peacefully if she didn't talk to Clarke face to face.

Not that she had ever gotten proper sleep since her return, but that was the whole gist of it.

"Don't judge," Lexa snapped when Gus eyed her from beside her. "And don't go gossiping to my dad again." His expression darkened, which oddly pleased her.

She had waited at Clarke's door for a little more than an hour when Clarke had finally shown up with her friend in tow. But it wasn't as if she was going to tell the doctor that, so she just spun a little white lie about how she had just landed forty-five minutes ago. Though she couldn't find it in herself to feel guilty for Clarke chasing her friend away – her energy had become more finite in the day and there was only so much she could focus on – so she just willingly followed the blonde into her home once the door was unlocked, quietly telling Gus to stay outside.

As she watched the doctor deal with plastic bags in the kitchen, the heaviness that Joshua Holbrook had left her dissipated almost completely. This was comfortable, cozy – something that couldn't be completely found in the palace that she called home. So she allowed herself to close her eyes to the sound of plastic rustling and Clarke's rustic voice.

* * *

The next time Lexa opened her eyes, instead of dimming sunlight, she was confronted rather rudely by very bright rays that didn't seem to be setting any time soon. She frowned in confusion, blinking away the confusion as she slowly sat upright and took in the surroundings that were definitely  _not_ her bedroom.

Wait, this was not her bedroom.

Her sleepiness dissipated in as short as a second and she leaped out of bed, the heavy blanket easily flung aside, alertness seeping into her consciousness at the unfamiliar surroundings. Her arms were stiff and in position – she didn't have a gun, but her hands were enough. One of her knees was bent and the other firmly placed but prepared to lunge if necessary.

She could feel her pulse slowing to an almost dead man beat, eyes roving over the furniture and the decorations. Seemed innocent, nothing too harmful. Picture frames posted everywhere, but her attention span could not care enough for the people in those photos.

Still, anything can be used as a weapon. She had learned that the hard way – the very hard way.

And then her eyes caught onto a letter in a frame, words written on a familiar parchment. A random paper snatched from the clipboard in opposition to the nurse's protest in a hurry to write down a few words for a certain pretty blonde doctor.

Right, Clarke had ignored her request for coffee yesterday afternoon and instead forced her to sleep. But she clearly fell asleep on the couch, so how did she end up in bed?

The tension locking her joints and stiffening her muscles gradually but definitely sapped away at the letter. She looked back to the photo frames and began noticing the people in them, recognizing only one person in all those photos. Body sagged and the bells in her brain silenced, she regained composure and permitted herself ten deep breaths as taught by Sergeant Roberts in Iran.

When she was certain that her nerves had rearranged themselves and she would be able to keep it together, she picked up the closest frame that was stood on the nightstand. In it were three incredibly happy girls, perhaps in their early twenties, huddled together in a tiny tent – one of them being Clarke and the other two Lexa vaguely recognized as the two women she encountered the last time she came over.

She moved on to the other photos, seeing an older male figure with a kind smile and rough physique, an older female figure who was rather attractive despite her sternness, and random people that appeared throughout. Finally, she found herself picking up the letter that had been framed, reading over her own words and blushing at her own boldness. Her blush deepened when she realized that Clarke had actually framed the letter in such pristine condition and placed it in her bedroom.

Still, despite her absorption to all these snippets that defined the blonde's life, Lexa's earlier panic mode had steered her into a constantly alert condition, which was how she sensed a change in the hair and heard a soft sigh before the door opened. When Clarke walked in with a tray of cookies and milk, Lexa had already put down the frame, turned towards the door, and her hands clasped behind her.

Clarke yelped at the sight of Lexa not in the bed but up on her feet, nearly dropping the tray and spilling the milk. Lexa smirked at the reaction.

"You are awful and I don't like you," Clarke complained, glaring at the princess.

"And yet you brought me breakfast in bed," Lexa said.

Clarke huffed and deposited the plate of cookies and the glass of milk on the study table, gesturing at it. "I was afraid I'd get arrested for not feeding the princess."

Lexa scoffed, but she made herself comfortable on the chair instead, humming in appreciation when the warm milk smoothed over her parched throat. "Come share with me." Clarke leaned against the table to Lexa's right and picked up a cookie, munching into it immediately. "So how did I end up in bed?"

"You know, you're surprisingly heavy for someone so slight."

The brunette stopped eating her cookie to frown at the blonde. "Excuse me. I will have you know I am anything but slight."

To prove her point, she curled up the sleeves of the shirt she had worn yesterday and slept in, curling it up to flex her bicep for the blonde. When Clarke's pupils blew a little and her mouth opened just slightly at the sight, Lexa knew she did the right thing. Still, treats shouldn't be given out so freely, so she lowered her arm and went back to the cookies, waiting for Clarke to shake out of her thoughts and clear her throat.

"Well, you're still heavy."

"It's muscle."

"I  _know_."

Lexa snorted and continued to chew on her cookie. The breakfast was eaten in silence; not uncomfortable though. As a matter of fact, Lexa wasn't sure when the last time she had felt so cozy in such a state of silence with another person.

They demolished the cookies and the brunette gulped down the milk after having snatched it a second before Clarke could reach it. Clarke was huffing again when Lexa put down the now empty glass.

"I should have kicked you out yesterday," she said.

"Yes, because I'm awful and you don't like me," Lexa echoed.

"Oh, good to know that someone's learned to be a little more self-aware."

There would never be a time where Lexa was not thankful that she was not an obvious blusher; it was what helped her build her reputation as the emotionless princess with the public and kept her out of trouble whenever she ran into a pretty girl or something embarrassing had happened. The heat crept up her neck at the callout, but she kept her expression as blank as possible.

Meanwhile, the pretty blonde doctor eyed her intentionally as she pushed off the table and picked up the tray once more. The teasing twinkle in her eyes had mostly diminished; in its place was careful consideration and scant concern.

As she retreated out of the room without another word, Lexa obeyed the silent order and followed after locating her cane by the bedside table. She found herself entering a room that she had barely taken a glance at yesterday before collapsing on the couch. While her host was still washing the dishes quietly, she looked at more photos, taking in the memories that Clarke had built in her life before meeting the princess, pausing at a photo that comprised of her and her colleagues at the hospital where they met.

She didn't know how long she'd been staring at the photo – at the bright smile on Clarke's face as she had an arm around a black man's neck, the way she unabashedly had another arm around a nurse's waist at the other side, the sheer happiness of the medical personnel in the midst of what was surely chaotic and deadly – but she did jump a little when Clarke's voice sounded from a few feet behind her.

"Why'd you join the army?"

Clarke had made herself comfortable on an armchair and was gesturing at the couch that Lexa had apparently fallen asleep on.

Okay, so it was serious talk time – and Lexa hadn't even been awake for a full two hours. In the back of her mind, she briefly thought about the paperwork that must have piled up on her desk over the time she'd been absent. But she sat down anyway, choosing to forget about them for awhile and tricking herself into thinking that she deserved a one-day break from it all.

"That's a tough question," Lexa responded, rubbing her palms together. Clarke simply raised a brow, lips shut. Lexa sighed and rested her elbows on her knees. "Do you remember when Polis Sentinel outed me?"

Clarke's lips twitched a little. "I don't think anyone could ever forget that."

She could still picture it, everything that had happened that day. How Lincoln and Anya tumbled over one another in their haste to barge into her room and snatch the day's copy of Polis Sentinel with hopes that she hadn't woken up yet, but Lexa had always been an early riser, and she had just returned from a morning run when she saw the paper. The descent of their panicked expressions into pity and regret. Her parents strutting into the room with their mouths going off about how they were going to sue the paper and that they supported her no matter what. Her kicking them all out of her room and closing herself off for the entire day, refusing calls and texts from her friends and family. Costia calling her that night and telling her that she couldn't handle the paparazzi hounding her door and apologizing for her weakness and the dial tone signaling the end of their one-year relationship.

But that wasn't the worst. Those weren't the worst.

"I was eighteen and I've never felt more purposeless in my life. I tried to do things, you know – LGBTQ+ programs and assorted charities and joining my dad on diplomatic ventures. Hell, I even met Putin. But I felt…useless." Lexa rubbed her palms harder, as if the friction was the only thing stopping her from seeing things. "I was known as the gay princess from Polis everywhere I go. And I know that I should feel – maybe not proud, but significant, in that way. Like I'm doing something for the community. But I didn't like it. I hated it. That wasn't – I  _knew_ that I wasn't  _born_  to be known as  _that_."

Clarke had shifted on the armchair. She sat sideways with her legs hanging off the right arm and her head propped in her hand. Her eyes were blank, save for the quiet prompting for the brunette to continue.

"Then I just – you know, signed up my name and then told my parents about it."

"You signed up  _before_ you told them?"

"I didn't want them to stop me. I didn't want anyone to stop me. At that point, I just thought: 'what the hell'," Lexa replied with a sheepish shrug. "I just got so tired of the scrutiny. The finger pointing. The shame I feel for being  _gay_."

Clarke shook her head. "You shouldn't feel –"

"I  _knew_ that," Lexa cut in.

She was slightly annoyed at the repeated words that had been thrown at her since the moment she found out about the outing. She hated hearing that sentiment, that advice, because they  _didn't_ understand. They would never know what it was like to be outed like that – without explicit permission or so much as a prior notice.

Lexa had gone to bed the night before all peaceful, still thinking about the amazing sex she had had with Costia few hours ago in a random broom closet. The next morning, the world had crashed down on her in the rudest of ways possible.

Taking a deep breath to hone in her annoyance, she cast an apologetic glance at Clarke before continuing softly, "But knowing and  _knowing_ are two different things." She pointedly eyed the blonde, hoping that Clarke would understand what she meant. She was relieved when the blonde just nodded. "I guess I just…" Lexa squinted slightly as she found the photo of Clarke and her peers at the hospital again.

How could she explain this clearly? Was there even a good way of explaining it? During her first year on tour, a Captain had told her that no one would have understood; they had to be there themselves, experiencing the torrent of bullets showering down on them and the cruel sun beating on their backs and the laughter and sorrow built in one small bunker together, to  _know_  what it was like to be in the army.

Her hands stopped rubbing together and came apart. Her right forefinger started twitching out of habit as she recalled carrying a heavy rifle during patrols and rounds. Her right foot shook as the memories of ambushes and operations rang through her head.

"Lexa." She inhaled sharply and looked again to her companion. "Where did you go?"

"Sorry," she breathed and blinked a few times, grasping onto her right hand with her left and suppressing the shakes of her food. "Sorry, I just –" She licked her lips. "In the army, I found my purpose. To do something for the country, in whatever capacity I can. That's my purpose. Not a – the one and only lesbian princess in the world. I don't – that's not how I want to make my name in the world." She then chuckled bitterly and hanged her head lower. "You know, the only time I felt even remotely good about being  _that_ was when you called me iconic."

Clarke snorted and smiled. "Just saying the truth."

"Thank you, though."

"What for?"

Lexa gulped, trying to find the words. "I don't know, but thank you." She truly didn't. All she knew was that meeting Clarke when she had was the North Star she didn't know she needed – she couldn't very well tell the woman that without spooking her.

"Was it worth it?" Clarke asked then. "Joining the army. I mean –" She shifted her position again to sit properly on the chair and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. "There's the panic attack and the not sleeping. Was it worth it?"

"Yes," Lexa replied with no hesitation, causing the doctor to raise her brows. "I did  _something_  out there. For this country and my family. I don't regret it. PTSD is…simply an undesirable side effect from it, and I don't like it, but I will bear it."

Clarke bit her lip and Lexa tried not to focus too much on it. They were having a serious talk right now, goddammit. She didn't come here to become a pervert. Actually, scratch that, she never  _wanted_ to become a pervert under any circumstances.

She considered herself lucky that Clarke would even call her back and scold her for sending those flowers her way. She considered herself blessed that Clarke hadn't rejected her for showing up at her door and had even allowed her to sleep in her bed. She couldn't ask for more than that.

"Ever considered seeing someone about it?"

"Do you count?"

The blonde looked taken aback at the blatant question, but then she smiled sadly with a sympathetic look in her eyes. She shrugged and said, "I didn't study mental health, Lexa."

"It's not – I don't think I feel comfortable…talking to a stranger about it."

"I'm a stranger."

She rolled her eyes with a scoff. "You are the furthest thing from a stranger to me," she said honestly, enjoying the way Clarke appeared shocked again at her statement. "I feel comfortable talking to you, which is something I can say about only a few people in my life."

"And I am honored for that," Clarke remarked. She considered things for a bit, inserting a bit of silence between them. And then she said, "What if I find someone for you?" Lexa frowned. "I work in a hospital. I do know someone who's dealt with…PTSD patients before. Panic attacks and the sort." The frown deepened. "Maybe you'd feel more comfortable talking to someone who knows me?" she said hesitantly.

Lexa was of half the mind to say no to it on the go. She had refused to talk to the psychologist that her mother had hired when she first came back, adamant that some quack would never be able to help her in any way. She had been convinced that it was her own obstacle – no one fought for her, and she would have to face it head on. Even if it would haunt her the rest of her life, she was determined to go through it alone without dragging anyone into her state of nightmares.

Then she thought about the day her father had strolled into her office and pretty much called her out on her isolationist behavior since her return. She didn't even have to think hard to see the concern in her mother's and siblings' eyes the day she had blown up at them to get the hell out of her office. She hated that her father had to go to her bodyguard to know things about her, instead of coming to her himself – and that was of her own doing.

If she kept this up, there was a chance she could lose her family – she could lose everyone. Plus, the man her mother had hired was a stranger; no one knew him but a distant relative whose son went to him. Lexa didn't trust a distant relative; Lexa trusted Clarke.

Also, there was that hopeful glint in Clarke's eyes.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess I'll try."

Clarke's grin almost made her decision seemed menial. But she had heard stories from her fellow soldiers about their experiences with psychologists, and she knew she wouldn't like it.

"If you send me flowers like you did last time, I'm gonna kick your ass."

Well, okay. There went potential romancing tactics. In the midst of her worries about what it would be like to actually talk to a professional about her condition, Lexa reminded herself to find alternatives to gifting flowers to Clarke.

* * *

"Okay, this is ridiculous. Now you don't come home too?" the king exclaimed as he sidled into her room after having passed by and saw her coming out of her closet.

Lexa blinked rapidly, fingers pausing in the twirling of the lollipop still in her mouth. She stared at her father, who seemed to be struggling between irate and glad. Slowly, she popped the candy out of her mouth and raised both hands in the air by her sides in a half shrug.

"Um, I'm home now…?" Unsure how to gauge his current mood, she decided to not challenge him too much. "Because I'm pretty sure that was my closet I just walked out of." Yeah, like that was gonna happen.

He rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea how anxious your mother and I were when you didn't come home last night?"

She winced at the desperation that had seeped into his voice. Scratching her head with the hand that was still holding the lollipop, all she could do was offer a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I wasn't exactly planning on not coming home last night either."

After that ridiculously harrowing talk with Clarke that had made Lexa want to go back to bed, Clarke managed to persuade Lexa into one movie with her before leaving, promising popcorn and unhealthy soft drinks. The princess had claimed that the popcorn had lured her into staying, but the truth was that she had been convinced since the invitation came out of Clarke's mouth.

If asked, Lexa would vehemently deny it, because it was implausible and illogical and totally stalkerish. But the truth was that as long as it was Clarke asking, Lexa probably would have said yes anyway.

It was creepy and insane, and the brunette couldn't recall when it was that she had become so unbecoming of a woman, let alone a princess. She suspected it was more than half a year ago, when she was the victim of multiple gunshot wounds and almost lost a leg and was sent to a hospital where she met a pretty blonde doctor who made her laugh.

Two movies later, a knock sounded on the door and it turned out to be Gus. Honestly, if he hadn't knocked, she probably would have just stayed and watched more movies and found another excuse to sleep over. She felt slightly guilty for forgetting him, but once she had bidden her inevitable goodbye and promised to not be an idiot to Clarke, her guilt was assuaged when he told her that he had summoned his prodigy team to watch over the block while he went home to catch a few hours of shuteye.

So now she was here, twenty-four hours after she was supposed to be home, facing her father's non-wrath and feeling the guilt rise again at making her parents worry.

"Where were you?" Richmond demanded.

She shifted on her feet and popped the lollipop into her mouth again to have a good suck before popping it back out. "I'm home now."

He squinted. "Lexa."

No, the last time she told her father the slightest bit about Clarke was to get him off her back about her sleeping habits and her pulling away from the family. She couldn't tell him any more than that. Call her selfish, but Lexa wanted to keep Clarke to herself for as long as possible – preferably forever, but that wasn't likely, if their friendship was going where she hoped it was going.

She shook her head with determination. "There were things I had to take care of."

"Things that prevented you from coming home?"

"Unexpected complications came up."

Like her total exhaustion from dealing with diplomatic assholes in Sangeda and being entirely obsessed with the adorable kids that she had visited and the long flight to get her home. Like her inexplicable connection with a certain Clarke Griffin. Not that her father needed to know any of that.

"Do we need to have another talk about your late night habits again? Should I talk to Gus? Maybe your mother can talk to you this time."

"Dad, please." Lexa placed hand on her father's chest and shot him the most convincing look ever. To make it even more convincing, she threw in a pout – something that her mother was adamant always made him weak in the knees. "I'm fine," she insisted.

When Richmond tilted his head and looked at her in the way that  _she_ always did when she was always trying to dig for answers, she knew just the way to avoid succumbing. After all, she was the one who inherited that look. So Lexa simply shoved the half-eaten lollipop into his mouth, eliciting an undignified yelp from the king.

She giggled and extended her arm to slink around his shoulders, guiding both of them towards the door and out of the room.

She placed one kiss on his cheek, took a moment to watch him suck on the lollipop, and asked, "So what's for dinner?"

Her family had all collected in the dining room when the youngest princess and the king emerged. The queen peppered with similar questions as her father, and this time, Lexa had to repeat that she was fine and she just had things to deal with until Storme succumbed, because the pout just didn't work the same way with the queen – supposed it was the strength of mothers, or something like that. Her siblings, knowing her tendency to keep things to her chest until she was ready to tell them, only shot her curious looks.

Dinner was boisterous. Raucous. Filled with laughter and stories from all directions. National discussions were carried out as well, as all five members of the royal family offered their suggestions to each other how they ought to handle certain matters with the departments they were involved with. Nothing was off the table, apart from the growing elephant that was Lexa's PTSD.

And she would love nothing more than to assuage their worries and reassure them that she was 100% fine. But as Clarke had mentioned, she was learning to be more self-aware, and there was no point deceiving them all and herself. Still, she wasn't lying when she had said that she was willing to try with this psychologist that Clarke was supposed to introduce.

She wanted things to stay this way. This happiness and tightness in this family – this bond that was unbreakable despite some setbacks. And if it meant her having to talk to someone about her issues, she was more than willing.

* * *

If seeing a psychologist was on the horizon, Lexa figured that she could start her own healing process by  _not_ sneaking out in the middle of the night and stealing away Gus' sleeping hours. God only knew how long this would last; maybe tomorrow night she'd just repeat the cycle again – but one couldn't say she didn't try.

 _Still_ , despite that, she still found herself restless. Her right forefinger wouldn't stop twitching. The shadows in her room began to spook her as it grew darker and darker. She wanted so badly to remove the bedding from her much too comfortable bed and toss them on the floor. She needed hard packed soil and the distant noises of bombs setting off to lull her to sleep – even after four months.

That was how Lexa found herself wandering the corridors and hallways that was the infrastructure of the palace, nodding at Brigade agents and occasionally making conversation with a familiar face. Somehow, she discovered that her wandering her had led her to the kitchen – and Anya was in there gorging on a tub of ice-cream.

"Mom taught us better than that," Lexa said after knocking her knuckles loudly on the wooden panel to alert Anya of her presence.

She snatched up a spoon from a random drawer and sat opposite her sister at the island, gesturing for the ice-cream. No one had to know that she had deliberately seated herself with her back towards the door that she usually sneaked out of. Anya obliged, and Lexa scooped a whole spoonful of vanilla ice-cream into her mouth, humming in appreciation.

"Look who's talking," Anya deadpanned.

"I ate canned ham out of the can for three tours. Give me a break."

"One of these days, you won't be able to use that as an excuse anymore."

"Maybe," Lexa concurred. Then she shrugged with a mischievous smile. "That day's not today."

They traded ice-cream in silence for a few moments before Anya asked, "You ever gonna tell me about that girl you met?"

The spoon paused halfway in the air. Lexa looked up to see Anya staring at her pointedly, eyebrows raised and a smidge of hurt in her eyes.

Oh dear. Lexa couldn't really blame her sister for taking this a little hard, since it had been a habit of theirs to share things with each other before they shared things with anyone else – even Lincoln was excluded in this pact.

But then to be fair, her secrecy had been a thing since she was honorably discharged. She hadn't really talked with her family about anything even a smidgeon more than superficial, and Anya was just, unfortunately, a victim who got hurt more. Still, it was her fault for being so determined to keep a distance from them, and she couldn't really tell them it was because she was afraid that one day she would really blow up and they would get hurt more.

What happened the other day was an occurrence that Lexa had been actively avoiding by keeping her distance – and she suspected that it wasn't the worst of it.

"I'm sorry I've been…not around lately," Lexa murmured, lowering the tub on the island.

Anya scoffed, shaking her head. "It's not 'lately'."

Lexa closed her eyes. "I know."

"I'm worried, okay? You came back and you won't talk to us. Not even me. And we've been walking on tiptoes around you ever since, like you're some kind of bomb or something." Lexa winced. " _Shit_. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have –"

"It's okay," Lexa cut in with a hopefully forgiving smile. "I know. I know that…there are issues. I am very aware that I've been behaving in a…less than ideal way," she stammered, struggling to find the words. Why wasn't it this hard when she was talking with Clarke? Lexa sighed and rubbed her face with her hands. "I just didn't want to – it was so bad, Anya. It was so bad." Anya hummed in acknowledgement, tilting her head. "And you guys are so  _good_. The things I saw out there – I just didn't want to bring them home, you know. This is – this is  _this_ , and that is  _that_."

"But you're  _you_ , Lexa," Anya affirmed. "You're our baby sister. You're Mom and Dad's baby girl. And we  _don't_ care. We just want you to be okay. We miss you.  _I_ miss you."

"I'm sorry," Lexa whispered.

Her sister shook her head and reached out to tangle their hands together across the island. She offered a reassuring smile and ducked down her head to meet Lexa's eyes. "Don't be sorry. Just be  _here_ , do you know what I mean?"

Lexa squeezed the hand in hers and smiled back. "I will certainly try my best," she promised, thinking about the psychologist that Clarke had suggested.

"So…this girl?"

With her free hand, Lexa tossed her spoon in her sister's direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit that conversation with clarke sucked the life out of me - so many rewrites went into that. i hope y'all like this chapter. don't stay tuned though. the next update will come when it comes lol
> 
> you can find me on twitter @ [embettah](https://twitter.com/embettah) or you can [LOVE ME](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me)


	7. in nocte consilium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you ever get the feeling like "oh it's the beginning of semester i've never been so chill oH MY FUCKING GOD THERE ARE SO MANY ASSIGNMENTS DUE IN AN HOUR HOLY FUCK MY LIFE" because yeah that's what i'm feeling right now
> 
> i'm gonna be swamped here on out and i wasn't sure if i will get the chance to update so i figured y'all deserve this one chapter before i bid myself into an update hibernation mode. i'll try to open up the word doc when i get the chance, but it's pretty slim to be honest, so you'll have to bear with this.
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_in nocte consilium [in nok-tæ kɑn-si-li-uhm]: advice comes over night._

* * *

 

"Your mom's hot!"

"That. Doesn't. Mean. You. Tell. Her. My. Shit!" Clarke pronounced each word with a pointed but gentle smack of the cushion against Raven's arm. She had elected to ignore her friend's declaration of how hot her mother was.

"Hey, cripple here!"

"Oh, I remember her saying that she'll break your other leg," Octavia pointed out from across the room, where she was perched at the bar in the kitchen, enjoying a tub of ice-cream and not seeming to care that one of her best friends was going to further cripple her other best friend.

Raven, having paused five seconds after hearing Octavia's nonchalant announcement, widened her eyes to comical size and staggered backwards towards the arm of the couch, somewhat gracefully toppling over and finding her footing despite the bum leg, and scrambled towards the bar to hide behind Octavia.

Clarke, who had a habit of using her career as an excuse to avoid the gym – look, according to her phone, her daily step count passed over 15,000, that should be enough – found a little difficulty in following the Latina, but she managed to do so anyway. She stood in front of Octavia, whom Raven was swaying around on the stool to avoid being in direct opposition with the blonde.

"Woman up and face me," Clarke sneered.

Raven shook her head resolutely. "I am not a woman," she declared.

"Oh, really? That's not what Bellamy tells –"

"No, stop!" Octavia shrieked, and Clarke suddenly found herself staring at an ice-cream slathered spoon very close to her face, almost crossing her eyes. "I do not want to know about how womanly my brother thinks Raven is." Her eyes went a little empty for a moment before she shuddered violently and swung around on her stool to face Raven. "Why does it have to be him?" she hissed. "Why'd you have to sleep with my brother? Why does it have to my brother? What  _even_ are you with my brother?"

Raven pondered those questions before she shrugged with an exaggeratedly innocent look on her face. "Your brother's hot. I like hot people. What I am with your brother is none of your business."

" _Yes_. Just like me and Lexa is none of my mother's business. You get it now!" Clarke interjected, finding a chance to slither around Octavia so there wasn't anything blocking them.

Raven sighed and nodded in acquiescence. "Look, I'm sorry. We were on the phone and it just slipped! You know how your mother is."

As a matter of fact, Clarke did. Clarke had spent a majority of her life living in the same house as that woman, and she knew exactly what kind of person her mother was. Octavia had found the woman scary and Raven had simply allowed herself to be coddled into the manipulative arms of Abby Griffin, thus surrendering herself as the unknowing spy into Clarke's life.

Abby Griffin was a concerning mother who really did care for her family, no doubt. Clarke could still remember the way she had shut herself off to the world after her husband had passed away, at the expense of the care that her daughter still needed. But Abby could also be demeaning and demanding and all-around selfish – Clarke didn't even want to delve into whether her mother did all that on purpose. There was this energy around her that made her irresistible in a sense; people found it difficult to lie to her, reject her, or do anything that was against her in any way – one wouldn't even think about pissing her off, because next thing they knew, their career had careened down the waterhole.

Clarke loved her mother – she truly did. But if she spent more than a day in the same room as the woman without the barest of space for air, she would either strangle herself or set the room on fire.

"I don't understand why you're still so pissed at her," Raven voiced out, settling on the stool next to Octavia and snatching the ice-cream, eliciting an undignified yelp from the shorter woman.

Narrowing her eyes, Clarke shook her head at the Latina and said, "You did not just say that."

"All I'm saying that she cares about you and she's really trying. The least you could do is give her a chance."

"Just because you're best friends with her doesn't mean I have to be."

Unnervingly calm about the jab, which was a testament to their close friendship, the engineer lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug as she handed the tub of ice-cream back to Octavia. "Abby's been more of a mom to me than my own since the moment I met her. I don't want to get in between you two. I just want to be your best friend and that girl Abby remembers to check up on."

Surely, those words were simply words and nothing was really implied by it except what Raven implied on the surface. And just like Raven did earlier, Clarke let it go by suppressing the brief appearance of the green-eyed-monster in her mind and shooting a mocking glare at the engineer.

"Stop spying on me for my mother."

"I'll try not to."

That was the best she could get from a running mouth like Raven Reyes, so she could only hope for the best and settle for what she could get.

When she saw Raven about to reach for Octavia's tub again and the absolutely animalistic glint in Octavia's eyes that indicated nothing nice, Clarke slapped away Raven's hand from the tub and rounded the bar for the fridge, where she pulled out two more tubs of ice-cream, which Raven had conveniently forgotten that they had purchased the day Lexa decided to drop by. She thrust one in Raven's direction before sitting on the last stool and opening up her own tub.

In the silence, as per the three women's tradition since that afternoon after they had sat for their last SAT paper, they shamelessly gouged on individual tubs of Ben & Jerry's, temporarily forgetting about the carb fest and their body weight for the day. Clarke had only just finished one-third of her tub when Octavia ruined it.

"So there's a you and Lexa, huh?"

Was it possible to kill someone by tossing a one-third empty ice-cream tub at someone's head?

* * *

If one were looking for adrenaline junkies in a hospital, they could either find them in the Intensive Care Unit or in the trauma department.

Every single trauma attending went in that day equipped with the anticipation of at least  _one_ bout of heart racing and sweat driven case; every single resident or intern assigned to the trauma department was all appropriately warned of exactly how messy it could get and how  _mean_ the attendings could be in the face of an emergency.

The ER could become very bloody very quickly, which was perhaps why the early pioneers of hospitals decided to install bays and curtains, if only to keep things as isolated as possible. On a bad day, the patients who came in would be diagnosed with simple things like appendicitis or needed their rectums cleared. On a good day, there would be bags of blood and desperate yells for assistance and incensed discussions of the best treatment in the shortest span of time.

Because that was what doctors who went into trauma truly wanted. They wanted to save lives, the more hectic the better, in a limited timeframe that would require to literally squeeze all their brain juice out for the most creative treatment methods that wouldn't compromise the patients' lives.

It sounded crazy. It certainly sounded cruel.

The thing was that the doctors swore the Hippocratic Oath – and what better way to make good on that oath than the kind of patients that they had to face in the ER.

Clarke had just come out of the waiting room to tell a husband that his wife was safe and being transported to a room for overnight monitoring right now. She didn't tell him about how his wife went into V-Fib for thirty seconds in the ER, which was why they had to perform emergency surgery on her. A surgery in which she had to work with  _Finn Collins_ , of all people, to get her heart working again, prevent her from losing another two pints of blood, and remove the scalpel that she had  _accidentally_ swallowed from her trachea. She didn't tell him about the way she had sat on a random chair in the OR for another thirty seconds after the surgery was successful, catatonic and blank, and then she had to laugh at herself at the  _complete_ bizarreness of being part of the trauma department.

The guy almost lost his wife. He didn't need to know about the ordeal the woman had to go through to survive another day and see him again. He certainly did not need to know how much his wife's doctor laughed maniacally at yet another random surgery that required the kind of precision that, sometimes, only a trauma doctor could afford.

She had just swapped her bloody scrubs for a fresh set and was on her way to get a piping hot sugary coffee to celebrate another win on this night when the bane of her existence sidled up next to her. Honestly, she couldn't even celebrate right without feeling even the slightest bit of annoyance; she suspected her mother must have placed some sort of voodoo on her or something, trying to wear her down to actually see the moron to be what he  _wasn't_.

"That was great, huh?" Finn commented, slapping his hands together enthusiastically and disturbing the hallways that had gone quiet for the after-midnight rounds.

"Yep."

"This is the first time I've ever worked with you."

"Hopefully, the last time," she replied unironically, coming to a stop in front of the elevators and pressing the 'down' button.

"Well, I don't."

She hummed in response, forcing herself to remain calm and not allow his presence to stifle her celebratory mood. Trying her luck, she turned around slightly to locate the nurses' station, but nope. Octavia had already left.

A ding alerted her to an elevator car's arrival and she quickly stepped into it, silently groaning when Finn joined her.

"Let me buy you coffee."

"I can afford my own coffee."

"Come on, to celebrate our win."

She turned sideways to look at him with a pair of narrowed eyes and stern lips, to which he appropriately froze at. "You almost tore a hole in the patient's left lung because you wrongfully located the scalpel. You mistook your own scalpel as the scalpel  _in_ the patient's body," she snapped, finding gratification in his whitening features, which she didn't even think was possible. "This is not  _our_ win. It's  _my_ win. And come morning, when Dr. Kane comes in, you can be sure that I'll report your pathetic ass to him."

"Clarke –"

"It's Dr. Griffin," she promptly corrected him, making a small noise of victory when the elevator reached her intended floor and the doors slid open. "And stop talking to my mother!" she yelled over her shoulder as she quickly walked away from him, putting as much distance between them as possible.

"Clarke, please." Finn quickly found his way over to her once she stopped by the coffee cart, holding onto her elbow. "Please don't do this."

"You're a hazard to this hospital and our patients," she commented coldly, fishing out her phone that had just buzzed in her pocket.

_Lexa (1:02a.m.): This Avicenna statue is really uncanny._

She frowned, tuning out Finn and trying to figure out what the text was supposed to mean. She groaned and snapped her eyes up from her phone to meet Finn's dull brown eyes with a glare when he had tugged on her forearm a little too roughly. He let it go sheepishly, but evidently, it wasn't enough to stop him from pathetically begging her.

And then through Finn's whines and complaints and the occasional tunes on the hospital's intercom system, it finally got through her head. There was only one Avicenna statue she knew of – and it had been the one to fascinate her and cause her to shake her head in amusement when she had first seen it outside the hospital all those months ago.

Forgoing the coffee cart because who needed coffee when there was a better pick-me-up waiting for her outside, she easily sidestepped Finn's increasingly frustrating clinging to her side and made for the exit. Once she was outside, she had to send a brief moment of appreciation to herself from fifteen minutes ago to have the decency of pulling on her coat over her scrubs, because it was actually pretty cold outside.

Her feet found the familiar path to the aforementioned Avicenna located just several hundred yards south of the entrance, in the middle of a mini maze that was meant to entertain the children. Soon enough, Clarke found herself looking at Lexa from the back, and the hulking bodyguard was smoking several feet away, keeping a good distance to keep the smoke away from the princess but also close enough to keep his eye on her.

She could barely respond to him noticing her when she found herself barreled into from the back, sending her tumbling forward and barely finding her footing before a pair of slender but definitely strong arms caught her. She panted slightly and took a few seconds to recover from the vertigo attack before looking up to find Lexa staring at her with concern, still holding onto her waist with no sign of letting at all.

Clarke gulped and tried not to squeeze the biceps under her fingers as she stood upright and smiled sheepishly at the princess, to which Lexa only responded with a raise of her brow and a curious look in her eyes. Somehow, for no reason at all, that look made her all the more attractive to the doctor.

"Clarke, please." Right, the culprit of her current awkward situation.

Lexa's eyes shifted over her shoulder, curiosity increasing but also wary at the same time. "Who's that?" she asked, low enough that only Clarke could hear.

Shooting the brunette a reassuring smile, the doctor spun around and out of the comforting grip of Lexa's hands on her hips to face the bumbling idiot still following her. Her words died on her lips as she saw that his focus was not on her but the woman standing behind her, mouth ajar and eyes lighting up in recognition. She reached behind her blindly, and thankfully enough, Lexa got the hint to take her hand and squeezed her fingers.

"Finn," she snapped, calling back his attention. His eyes traveled from the princess to her, still shocked but clearly, he wasn't stupid enough to not see what exactly was happening. "Leave me alone."

He blinked a few times, looking at Lexa and Clarke then Lexa then Clarke again. And then he stood up straighter, closing his mouth, and his terrified and awed expression slowly transformed into one of smugness and pure slyness.

Just judging by that rat face of his, the blonde could already see what was coming next, and she'd be lying if she said her heart had not jumped several erratic beats at the implication. The only thing that tied her back down and offered her even a smidge of relief was the squeeze on her fingers, the reminder that Lexa was still holding on to her hand.

"So you're fucking the princess," Finn drawled.

And just like that, Lexa's stiffness could be felt right down to her fingertips and this time, Clarke had to be the one to do the squeezing as she stared Finn down with enough determination and flare to burn down just about anyone in her path. She clenched her jaw and tilted her head at the hazardous doctor, not even bothering to grace him with a reply.

He wasn't worth it. If she was going to explain her odd relationship with Lexa to anyone, it would be to someone worth even an ounce of her respect. And Finn Collins just wasn't it.

"I know a reporter at Polis Sentinel."

Clarke narrowed her eyes. "Are you blackmailing me?"

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking at them. "I mean, I won't object to being a part of this party." At that, he shamelessly let his eyes wander over Clarke's body, sending a bout of disgusted shivers through her nerves, before doing the same to the seething princess behind her, approving and creepy all the same.

Before the blonde could retort, Lexa had already loosened her fingers around Clarke's hand and suddenly, Clarke found herself standing behind the princess, whom had her posture set in one that was determined to protect Clarke – arm outstretched and back so tall that Clarke almost couldn't see Finn over her shoulder.

For a few long moments, they just stood there, Lexa in front of Clarke and Finn still very reassured where he was and Gustus having already stamped out his cigarette and looking ready to land a punch or two if he had to. And then something unexpected happen.

Lexa  _chuckled_. As if they hadn't just been blackmailed with something that they had never done, though the media would never just take their word for it. As if her life wasn't just about to be catapulted to levels so high that it would be enough to cause permanent damage the moment she fell. As if her inane protectiveness over Clarke hadn't just given Finn the confirmation he needed. As if she didn't see Finn whip out his phone to not so subtly take a photo of her and Clarke together.

"There's nothing else the press can do to me that would be worse than what they had done last time," Lexa started.

Clarke had never heard this voice in such close vicinity before; cold and unbearably icy, as if the princess was prepared for war and removed all her humanity in order to confront the terribleness stretching out before her.

"And may I just remind you, I am the Second Princess of the Polis Kingdom. My father is the sole monarch of this country, King Richmond the Second, Chief Commander of the military forces and headof the Parliament and Congress. My mother is Queen Storme the First, the sole heir of the mayor of Trikru and the commander of three naval shipyards throughout the country. If you speak a word of my appearance here or my  _friendship_ with Clarke to anyone, keep in mind that I have all the power I need in this country to strip you down, tear you up, and split you and your useless existence into pieces of nothing. My family might not deign to resort to authoritarian methods in all the years of its rule over this country, but do not underestimate the loyalty they have for family," Lexa threatened, breathing heavily with each syllable that did not fail in pronouncing the power she held simply by being born into the right family of the right country.

Clarke found satisfaction in the way Finn's skin paled again at the threats that she was certain were substantive and Lexa wouldn't hesitated to execute. As she listened to Lexa's voice slowly but surely spell out exactly how she could ruin Finn's life, she couldn't deny that it was all kinds of hots and doing all kinds of indescribable things to her. She had never imagined that fear could be such an effective aphrodisiac, but here they were.

"Now, I'm not sure what exactly you're begging Clarke for, but I am certain you deserve it. Whatever she's going to do, I won't stop her. But here's the thing: it's far better than what I am going to do to you if you so much as touch a hair on the good doctor here. I advise you to scram and take what you can get, Finn Collins," Lexa added as a measure of ensuring Finn knew that she knew his name now, and he better be careful.

The man in question stood frozen where he was, quiet and meek. If Clarke had strained to listen, she would be hearing him whimpering and almost peeing himself at the intimidating stare that Lexa must be sending him. For a second, she almost felt sympathetic, because she had seen that look on Lexa's face before, way back when they hadn't known each other and the princess had just woken up in a strange bed in a strange room with a strange woman in a coat in the same strange room as her.

Lexa huffed when Finn had stood there for too long. "What did I just say?" she snapped.

In mere seconds, Finn was gone from the middle of the makeshift maze, leaving Lexa and Clarke and Gustus and Avicenna alone, practically stirring up escape smoke at his trail.

It was only when she inhaled and could no longer inhale the stifling air of self-righteous white male stench that Clarke allowed the relief to enter her system. She stumbled back a little and leaned against Avicenna, hoping that the heroic figure who had brought many advances to her field of work would forgive her for this temporary move of disrespect. She just needed to breathe.

She hadn't realized how anxious she had gotten at Finn's threatening words, so much so that she couldn't even properly react but stare blankly when Lexa had swapped their positions. Right now, it all came rushing to her, triggering her fingers to tremble almost violently and sweat to gather at the back of her neck and her breathing to stagger as she respirated.

When she finally looked up from her sneakers after having managed to get her fingers to stabilize, Lexa had already turned around to look at her, hands buried in her hoodie pockets and an apologetic look on her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Clarke frowned. "For what?"

Lexa raised her brows, shrugged, and gestured over her shoulder. "If you hadn't known me, if I hadn't come here…" she drifted off, allowing Clarke to fill in the blanks herself.  _I put you at risk_ , was the basics of her implication.

"You didn't do this."

"Come on, Clarke –"

"No, you come on!" Clarke exclaimed, pushing off the statue to come to her full height. "Finn's a pathetic asshole! He's nothing but a pain in my ass. He would have found something else to blackmail me with. If it wasn't for you being here, I probably would have agreed to whatever he demanded."

"But it's me. I'm the reason he blackmailed you just now. Our friendship is the reason I had to use my family name to scare him off."

" _God_ , Lexa, what did I tell you?" Clarke snapped, glaring at the brunette in front of her. Lexa looked down at her feet, sheepish and still guilty. "You can't scare me off that easily," she reminded the princess.

Between the two of them, Clarke was panting from exertion and the excitement of the night, while Lexa was shuffling her feet and getting ahold of her own guilt. Meanwhile, Gustus was probably just enjoying the show or maybe hating on Clarke for even daring to be this bold with his charge.

And honestly, the blonde was actually quite surprised at her own determination to retain…whatever this was she had with one of the most important people in this country – one whose life and death could cause ripples and instigate tsunamis with simply a few words and a meaningful stare. Clarke would know; god only knew how many tsunamis the brunette had set off in her chest by just staring at her with those starkly green eyes of hers.

Normally, she would have just given up. Nothing was worth this much trouble – or, at least, that was what she used to think.

But apparently, a few hours of light-hearted and unmeaningful conversation in a military hospital and a random note scribbled on a decaying paper were enough to keep her tethered. So much so that not even six months of silence would keep her away.

Then Lexa nodded in acquiescence and lifted her head to meet Clarke's eyes, to which Clarke inclined her head in response.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Clarke asked.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm gonna be seeing Dr. Terran again."

"You had a session with Niylah?"

"Yeah, this afternoon."

Clarke's frowning mouth stretched into a gratified grin at the revelation, and she couldn't help but step forward to engulf Lexa in a hug. The brunette's arms flapped around for awhile, obviously unsettled by the sudden intimacy, but eventually, she hugged Clarke back as well.

And  _god_ , the doctor didn't want to let go. She never wanted to let go.

Back when she was ten years old, her family was still whole. Jake Griffin used to take her on plane rides on his shoulders every night, because apparently, she was a child who refused to sleep until she got a plane ride. So he would secure her tiny figure on his shoulders and started racing through the rooms downstairs – the kitchen, the dining room, the guest bathroom, the foyer, and the living room. There were always two rounds, and sometimes even more if he felt like it. Then he would race her up the stairs to her room, followed by her mother who still had warmth in her heart.

Then before they left the room and shut the lights, they would both pull her into a tight hug, whispering gentle good nights into her ears.

This felt a little – too much – like that.

But reality had to set in. Last time, it was in the form of her parents kissing her temples and shutting off the lights and turning on the night light. This time, it came in the form of her pager buzzing on her pants, jerking them both apart. She momentarily cursed her job for breaking her moment.

She shot Lexa a regretful stare, to which the princess only nodded in assurance and jerked her chin towards the entry point where she came from.

"Let your bodyguard sleep," Clarke said, nodding in Gustus' direction.

"I'm planning to. I just wanted to let you know."

Clarke's grin gentled into a small smile. She reached out to squeeze Lexa's elbow before heading towards the entry point. Before she disappeared out of view, she spun around to face Lexa, fast enough to catch the wistful glint on her expression before the brunette quickly wiped it away.

"That was hot by the way – the way you threatened him."

Lexa blinked a few times, and then she – the damn woman –  _dared_ to smirk. She tilted her head and shifted her weight to the other foot. "Yeah?"

Clarke wanted to just get onto her knees right there and plead Lexa to do ungodly things to her. But instead, she settled for a gentle and meek "Yeah" before escaping the piercing hot stare that only Lexa could manage to do, sending a totally different kind of shivers down Clarke's spine, which lingered long after she had finished her shift five hours later.

* * *

"You know, when you said you referred a patient to me, never in my wildest dreams had I thought it'd be the fucking princess."

Clarke looked up from the newspaper – oh, reading the newspaper, she'd missed doing  _that_  – and Niylah sitting down in the other empty chair at the table with her own paper cup of coffee. She allowed herself a momentary mourning for another delayed reading of yesterday's news and folded the newspaper, dedicating all her attention to her friend.

"Tell me you didn't scare her off," Clarke decried.

Niylah gasped and dropped her jaw. "What do you mean scare  _her_ off? You're lucky I didn't just run out and abandon my practice right there."

Clarke scoffed, lifting her own cup of mocha to her lips. "The Niylah I know isn't such a scaredy cat." Niylah wrinkled her nose in skepticism but didn't offer another word. "Your first session was yesterday, right?" Niylah nodded in affirmation. "How was she?"

"You know I can't –"

"No, I know about the whole doctor-patient confidentiality clause, Niylah. I'm a doctor myself," Clarke reminded the psychologist, emphasizing her point by waving her hand over her body. "I just meant if she's coming back." Clarke would have asked Lexa herself this morning, but she had been a little too aroused by the princess' act of intimidation and much too proud of Lexa for keeping her promise that she had forgotten.

"She is."

"Good."

"So how exactly did you become friends with the second daughter of the Royal Family, huh?" Niylah questioned, eyes bright with curiosity and entire body leaning forward as if they were sharing the biggest secrets of all time – though that wasn't entirely untrue; her friendship with Lexa right now was the biggest secret she had ever had to harbor, but it didn't feel as much like a burden as all the other secrets she had to hide.

The doctor sighed and didn't even try to pretend that she wasn't going to tell Niylah. The woman was a psychologist – there was no better secret keeper than her. Plus, their history together was enough to reassure Clarke that there was nothing to fear from Niylah.

She launched into the story how she met Lexa in the military hospital in Libya, describing the torrent of emotions she had felt between the ten minutes from seeing the princess on her table for the first time to the moment she decided to kick out staff who would be too nervous to properly function in the operating theatre. What she didn't tell Niylah was how mindbogglingly stunning she had found Lexa once they had cleaned the blood and dirt off the woman or how mind-bendingly different Lexa was from the way the press had portrayed her or how magnetized she had felt towards the then-soldier within thirty minutes of talking to her.

Those were not for anyone to know. Those were for her; beautiful memories retained in her hippocampus regardless of what could happen tomorrow or the day after tomorrow or many days in the future to her and Lexa. No one had the right to them. No one deserved to get even a trailer of those of memories, not even Lexa, and certainly not Niylah, regardless of their history.

Niylah showed the appropriate responses to her story, from gob smacked to impressed. In the end, all she could say was that of all the people to have this encounter, she wasn't surprised that it was Clarke Griffin.

"In your professional opinion," Clarke began and smiled when Niylah hummed in that exaggeratedly wise tone of hers, "what does it mean when someone shows up at your place of work in the middle of the night just to tell you that they did something they thought you'd be proud of?"

There was a blank expression on the psychologist's face at first, but it eventually shifted into one of knowingness. Nothing really did skip the keen eye of Dr. Niylah Terran; it was how she became such a popular psychologist within the region and managed to charge such high fees without receiving any complaints.

Still, keen eye aside, Niylah was kind enough not to call Clarke out on this not so subtle revelation. And the doctor also knew she could trust Niylah with this one little secret as well.

"I think it means that you are very important to them. Perhaps one of the most important, if not  _the_ most."

Clarke hummed, unable to help the little smile twisting the corner of her lips as she thought about the short time she spent in the makeshift maze outside the hospital with Avicenna as witness not even twelve hours ago. She nodded in acceptance of Niylah's succinct answer and felt a little lighter when she downed her cup of mocha.

* * *

_Clarke (3:42p.m.): u cldve just textd ya know_

_Lexa (3:56p.m.): I could have._

_Clarke (3:57p.m.): but u didnt_

_Lexa (4:02p.m.): I didn't._

_Clarke (4:06p.m.): im glad u came to the hospital_

_Lexa (4:06p.m.): Of course you were. You thought it was hot._

_Clarke (4:06p.m.): im nvr talking to u ever again_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, clarke has horrendous text speak, but she's a doctor, she's too busy for grammar and correct spelling. she turned off autocorrect because she hates it. also, that's not the end you'll see of finn, unfortunately.
> 
> meanwhile, you can find me on twitter @ [embettah](https://twitter.com/embettah) or you can [LOVE ME](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me) please love me


	8. a mari usque ad mare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, i am back! i have three weeks until the end of the semester and almost everything has fizzled out except for a couple of presentations and reflection essays. there's time on my hands now - well, not much, but enough for me to pump this out for stupid lexa and clarke god they're so stupid. so yay!
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_a mari usque ad mare: from sea to sea_

* * *

 

This Thursday was rainy. It began with a drizzle ten minutes after five in the morning. And Lexa, having just gotten out of bed, didn't think it was a big deal. After having waded through waist deep rivers, hiding under torn rooves or in the middle of the forest while there was a storm going on, shooting at her enemies while pretty much having no visuals due to the sheets of rain, a little drizzle wasn't a problem.

She'd changed accordingly and headed out to the garden. It was still within the borders of the palace, so there was no Gustus waiting for her, but the security team was still present, posted at all possible entry points and eyes wide with a guardedness that only one tasked with protecting the royal family could have. She began her morning routine of swimming at least twenty laps in the outdoor pool, before they opened it up for outsiders and visitors, when all was quiet and she could still hear her feet pounding the pavement and the air was still chilly.

Except she couldn't complete her swim that usually lasted for an hour, because twenty minutes into it, the clouds began to have their conference right over Polis, and everyone who was out in the open air became victims to their angry spats.

Lexa was, unsurprisingly, unhappy about it.

After her trip to Sangeda and her talk with Clarke, she had tried to stay home at night and not venture out on walks at the park at the expense of Gustus' rest. The first week was difficult. She lied in bed and closed her eyes but all she could see was an endless expanse of darkness while being vividly awake.

The second week, she started seeing the therapist Clarke had recommended, and Dr Niylah Terran recommended her to do things that could expend her energy so tremendously that she would have no choice but be knocked out. Lexa was skeptical at first, but she had gone home and started around the palace for an hour straight, ignoring the weird looks the staff and her family were sending her, and lo and behold, she went straight to bed and just snored her life off.

The only caveat was that it didn't really matter what time she slept or how long she intended to sleep, she would still wake up in cold sweat at exactly five in the morning. The last thing she saw would always be the face of one of the people she had lost overseas, begging her to save them.

So what did she do? She started twice a day, an hour each. If only to spend more energy, to exhaust herself, to drive the vivid images in her head less vivid.

Because of the rain, she didn't get to swim a full hour – the image was still lingering in her head; Corporal Hunter staring at her with a gauntness to his cheeks and a hateful expression on his face.

"This is good," Niylah commented when Lexa had come in with a tall cup of black coffee and a haunted look in her eyes for their fifth session.

Lexa wanted to bolt it right out of there, curse the hell out of this quack and never come back again. Her mind was too muddled to even remember that she actually  _liked_ Niylah, despite the psychiatrist's very piercing eyes and poker face and annoying hums. Or maybe she liked the other woman because of those things – because Niylah was one of the rare few people who could see through her with just one look.

The first time Lexa had walked into Niylah's office, the woman had nearly jumped out of her skin, then proceeded to literally jump out of her chair behind the desk to shake the princess' hand, eyes wide and forehead already sweating despite the room being air-conditioned. It was difficult to reconcile that Niylah to the Niylah four sessions later.

Because, apparently, the first session was just a warm up, and the second session was where the real work began. Niylah had managed to poke at holes that Lexa wasn't even aware existed, asking her questions and questions and questions and constantly trying to rile Lexa up. By then, it was already too late – Lexa already liked her.

It was no wonder that she and Clarke were friends. Or maybe more. Lexa had wondered, but she never did ask. Because she knew they were in a professional setting, and it would be inappropriate to just bring it up in a session. Plus, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

There were only two things she knew when it came to Niylah Terran: one was that Lexa liked her for some godforsaken reason, and the other was that she hated coming out of every session. Every session felt like a marathon of its own – all that self-exploration and trying to figure out what the psychologist was trying to get out of this particular session, all the probing and the forcing herself to open up because, apparently, that was meant to be comforting.

And it was true, she supposed. Every time she had a session, Lexa always found herself going home lighter and easier to smile. Sleep still didn't come easy, because she still wasn't sure if she wanted to sleep when the cost of it was to see those faces again.

But the second she came out of the office was a whole different story. The exhaustion wasn't sleepiness – it was a toll that pulled on her muscles, weighed down her joints, and numbed her brain. The kind of dullness that she had experienced every time she watched a fellow soldier die. It wasn't something she wanted to bring home to – she refused to go home until she had calmed down enough and regained enough of her personality to not have them suspicious.

The Thursday was still rainy, though not as heavy as this morning, when she came out of the building empty handed, having drained her coffee during her fifth session with Niylah. She tugged the bill of her cap lower to avoid being recognized and nodded at Gustus so he would follow along.

"What are we doing today?" she asked, forcing herself to talk and act as normal as possible.

Niylah had said something about behaving like normal would normalize behavior, and in time, it wouldn't feel so forced. Lexa had called bullshit, and she was only forcing herself now to prove the psychologist wrong.

Plus, oddly enough, Gustus always had good suggestions to uplift her post-therapy slump. There was one time he brought her to a putt-putt course and she had had one of the best times since she returned from Libya.

"Visit Clarke."

Lexa blinked. She stopped short in the middle of sidewalk, not even caring that they were being drizzled on right now. The both of them had been through war and back; their immunity were pretty much up there. A little rain didn't mean shit.

"Did you just say visit Clarke?" Gustus nodded. "Gus, you don't like her." As much as it pained her, he didn't, and Lexa knew him well enough to know that it took time for him to like things and no amount of convincing would work.

Gustus grunted. "You do."

Lexa raised her brows, huffing a disbelieving sound. She glanced her around them, focusing on the plants and streetlight poles and windows looking into various shops, trying to spot a camera or anything that would indicate she was being pranked right now. But Gustus looked the same as he did when she looked back at him – stoic and unmoved, save for an impatient twitch to his beard covered lips.

"Does Penelope like that jungle growing on your face?"

"I will not dignify that with an answer."

"Honestly, how does she even let you eat her –"

"Your  _Royal Highness_ ," Gustus bit out, though not out of anger, but of exasperation. His eyes displayed pools of impatience and fatherly disbelief, and he had one hand in the air, like he was struggling between scratching his head or pointing a finger in her face.

Lexa giggled. She could never get tired of this, even though he'd been by her side since she was a kid. She whipped out her phone, not forgetting to place a playful kiss on her bodyguard's cheek, and dialed Clarke's number.

* * *

The receptionist had recognized her, though Lexa wasn't so surprised by that. Sure, the cap and the sunglasses were always helpful, but only when she didn't have to purposely talk to anyone. And she refused to wear a scarf – those things were suffocating and hot and reminded a little too much of the fatigues that she had refused to allow her mother to burn.

Damn her parents for being such beautiful and benevolent leaders that everyone loved them, so much so that they loved the kids as much too, despite them having done exactly nothing to contribute to this nation thus far. They couldn't have been a little uglier or crueler, if only to ease their children's lives.

The receptionist – a boy who didn't seem older than twenty – had widened his eyes and almost squealed if not for Gustus hulking presence behind her. Yes, the man was helpful in occasions like this. She smiled at the receptionist, grabbed a random tissue paper, signed her name, and offered the piece to him while making her inquiry.

He could barely stutter out the instructions, but he was legible enough that she managed to find her way through the hallways and the doors. Plus, thank god for the instruction plaques hanging overhead.

She turned another corner and located the second door to her right, opened it, and almost felt her heart melt right over there. She shook her head, unable to resist the small chuckle from escaping her throat as she watched the scene before her.

"You're killing me," she remarked, taking her eyes away from the pile of puppies that were currently climbing onto Clarke's lap and zeroing in on the one that the blonde held in the crook of her arms while feeding it milk from a bottle.

" _Oh my god_ ," a familiar-looking woman exclaimed, scrambling to her feet and almost stepping on one puppy as she tried to stand as straight as possible. "Oh my god," she repeated, except in the form of a hiss at the blonde still sitting on the floor, totally undisturbed by Lexa's appearance here.

"Octavia, calm down," Clarke said and slowly stood up as well to not jostle the puppy too much. She threw the woman – Octavia, apparently – a warning look before making her way over to Lexa, not forgetting to offer a nod to Gustus. "I was wondering why you texted me."

"Gus suggested I hang out with you today." No, she wasn't going to tell Clarke about her post-therapy habits. Not yet, anyway.

The doctor raised her brows and cast a look at Gustus standing behind her. "Really?"

Gustus grunted half-heartedly.

"I thought you don't like me."

Gustus grunted again.

"You know, one of these days, you're gonna have to actually talk to me, right?"

Gustus was quiet for a moment, which made Lexa turn around. He was staring at Clarke with his eyes narrowed. Not in an intimidating way – Lexa wouldn't have allowed it if it was. He was…perturbed. Uncertain of the blonde.  _Unused_ to the blonde. His first priority since the moment Lexa had been born was to protect Lexa – be her father when her own father couldn't, guard her, make sure she ate, make sure she slept, make sure she  _breathed._ So this blonde was completely out of his wheelhouse. He didn't know how to handle her, really.

This was intriguing. This was amusing. This was fun, especially after the hour she had had with Niylah. She had never seen Gustus like this before, unable to decide between protectiveness and curiosity. Lexa decided she liked this. Because she related so much. That time she had opened her eyes back in Libya and saw this pretty doctor struggling on what exactly to call her, she had been gone – she just didn't want to admit it until she saw Clarke again six months later.

Lexa decided she liked this.

Gustus decided on grunting again.

Gustus was also right – he somehow almost always was; it was kind of annoying. The weight that had been laden onto her shoulders since she left Niylah's office was half gone with only just a glimpse at Clarke's face; the rest of it, she had to get rid on her own – no external forces could help.

But this was enough. This was better than nothing. Once again, Clarke Griffin was magic. As Lexa watched Clarke coo the puppy in her arms, she wanted badly to just kiss the blonde. The only things stopping her were Octavia, who was still frozen and unbothered by the horde of adorable puppies crowding her feet, and her own reservation at making whatever this was between them more than that before she could pull herself together.

The last thing she wanted was to subject Clarke to yet another bout of panic attack – not if she could help it.

"Ah, so this is the infamous Clarke Griffin."

She stiffened where she was, recognizing that voice immediately and definitely recognizing the look that dawned on Clarke's expression as she saw their new companion. Behind the blonde, Octavia let out a menial squeak that resembled a mouse and a drowning dog at the same time, straighter than Lexa could think possible – she wasn't certain if she herself managed to be this straight in posture back when she was still in uniform.

Lexa closed her eyes and released a long sigh. Of course, fate would choose to play with her this way.

"Lexa." Clarke's hiss made her open her eyes again; she refused to turn around unless properly prompted. The doctor looked half freaked out and half uncertain, the puppy in her arms long forgotten as it squirmed and squirmed and squirmed. "Lexa, what do I do?"

The princess decided there wasn't a point to her cap anyway, so she pulled it off as a vain effort to relieve the stress gathering at the back of her head and turned around to face their intruder, who looked all sorts of smug and unapologetic at his rude intrusion. "Lincoln," she greeted, trying to convey her promise to strangle him in his sleep later tonight.

Lincoln hummed, flicked Clarke a glance, and smirked wider. "Anya's going to have a field day."

"I promise to not smother you with your pillow tonight if you don't tell Anya – or anyone else – about today."

Clarke gasped behind her, joined by Octavia's subsequent squeak. It was kind of becoming repetitive at this rate.

"That is so unfair. I just want one thing to lord over our dear sister."

Lexa shrugged. On any other day, she'd want the same thing – Anya was too much of a devious human being sometimes, given the way she always managed to acquire information throughout the palace and utilized these information to get the younger siblings to do something or another. Lexa would probably help her brother in devising a plan to get back at their older sister.

But in this situation, her relationship with Clarke was more important. It was still too early, too fresh. There was no way she was losing her privacy with Clarke just like that – because the moment her sister found out anything new, it would be game over. She wanted to keep the doctor as safe from that thunderstorm as long as she was capable. Forever, if that was even possible.

Lincoln groaned, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. "Fine. At least introduce me to her."

Lexa took a step back and smiled at Clarke reassuringly, offering a wink to help. "Lincoln, this is Clarke, a good friend of mine." His eyes twinkled at her choice of words, and she narrowed hers back. She reached down to squeeze Clarke's forearm twice. "Clarke, I'm sure you know my brother, Lincoln."

Clarke laughed nervously and Lexa could see that she was trying her very best to not act out as she did back in Libya. Shame, really, because Lexa had found that really cute. The blonde clasped onto Lincoln's ready hand and shook it.

"Um, hi, yes, I'm – I'm Clarke." She blinked a couple of times before letting go of the man's hand and gesturing behind her.

"Pleasure," Lincoln replied with a charming smile, one of his many talents. Lexa could never do that. "I have heard absolutely nothing about you, except your name and that you're the doctor who saved Lexa's life."

Clarke raised her brows, threw Lexa look that was much too swift for proper interpretation, and turned back to the prince. "So how am I infamous then?"

"This is the first time we've ever heard of Lexa meeting a girl in a long time. She's always been a little closed off, as I'm sure you know."

"Right." At that, Clarke had become significantly confident, as if she had just found ammunition. "Yes, I definitely know that."

Lexa was going to regret this immensely, she realized, as she watched the conspiratorial look manifest behind her closest people's eyes. Suddenly, she wanted to squeak like Octavia had done since the moment she showed up.

* * *

"This is –"

"I don't know whether it's a curse or a blessing."

"Can I say both?"

There was a long pause between them. And then Lexa hummed skeptically, tilting her head as she watched whatever it was happening in front of her. "Are you sure, though?"

"Guess we'd have to wait and find out."

"I'm not even sure I want that."

After the incredibly odd introduction between the girl she felt like kissing all the time and her brother and the best friend of the girl she felt like kissing all the time, the five of them – including Gustus – had somehow managed to end up a secluded spot at a nearby beach, where it would only be them and the two puppies that Lexa was pretty sure they kidnapped from the shelter, though Octavia assured them that she'd already told the owner that they'd return the little boys at the end of the day.

Apparently, her brother ran the shelter. The princess wasn't certain she would ever trust someone who couldn't even be there to account for the dogs to properly swim a shelter.

But who was she to judge anyway? The puppies were adorable – so adorable that Lexa was actually considering adopting one. And to think that she had only made her way to the shelter because Gustus had come up with the ridiculous idea of seeing Clarke right after therapy. Look where that brought her – an awkward and much-too-early introduction between Lincoln and Clarke.

Which brought her to the other not-so-adorable thing. As soon as Gustus had driven up to this side of the beach and dropped them off, Lexa and Clarke had immediately made themselves comfortable on a random tree trunk with a puppy, while Lincoln and Octavia had galloped off to the shore with the other.

It was odd. She wasn't certain she liked it – not yet – and obviously, Clarke felt the same. Her brother and Clarke's best friend had just been trampling about the beach like a couple of long lost lovers as they tried to make sure the puppy didn't drown. And there was a moment that Lexa was jealous of her brother – of how easy it was for him to just…be so carefree with a woman he obviously had taken a liking with, of how comfortable he was without having to worry about stupid attacks or memories or dead soldiers calling his name.

She understood that it was a selfish thought, and once upon a time, she would have felt guilty for being selfish. But Niylah had taught her that she was allowed these emotions as long as she acknowledged the  _whys_ behind these thoughts. Self-awareness was the first step.

"So why did you come and see me?" Clarke asked.

"Because Gus said so."

Clarke hummed with an amused look on her face as she narrowed her eyes at Lexa teasingly. "And you expect me to believe that you just follow your bodyguard's instructions everywhere you go?" The blonde turned a little to the left to locate said bodyguard standing several yards away to watch over both the prince and the princess. "You know, if you follow instructions that easily, I'm sure you would have been a much easier charge than Gustus currently finds you."

Surprisingly enough, the usually silent man released a snort loud enough for them both to hear, whipping both of their attention to him in an instant second. The brunette gaped at him in betrayal, while the blonde gaped at him for having even made that noise at all.

Gustus noticed Lexa's expression and offered a simple shrug. "She's not wrong."

"I think he  _actually_ likes me."

Lexa whipped around and swerved back slightly, completely caught off guard by the sudden close proximity of Clarke's voice, followed by the realization the woman actually almost had her chin on Lexa's shoulder. She blinked a few times and breathed deeply to get her heart back in order, hoping that Clarke wouldn't mistake her reaction for something else, or better yet, didn't actually notice her reaction.

But judging by the way the blonde's face pinched with slight hurt and guilt, Clarke had definitely seen her reaction and definitely mistook it for something else.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" Clarke drifted off, shrinking a little back and returning to stroking the puppy.

The brunette sighed aloud, throwing Gustus a dirty look, before she tried to find the words that wouldn't reveal too much. She stared down at the puppy and watched it doze in the crook of Clarke's elbow, unable to help but smile at the scene.

"No, it's…uh…" She took a deep breath and removed her gaze from the puppy to Clarke. "Things always get a little weird whenever I leave Niylah's office."

She waited for the inevitable as it dawned on Clarke what she had just said. The blonde shifted a little on the tree trunk and tilted her head, a clear look of understanding replacing the guilt. Instead of responding verbally, she only nodded a little as a prompt for the princess to go on.

"I mean, she's good. You're right to recommend her. I do feel…easier after I see her. But things are…" She licked her lips and moved to shove her hands in her jacket pockets. "It's the  _right after_ that's weird, you know. Like I've just told this very professional looking woman whom I suspect you have a history with about things in my life that I've never told anyone. And everything floats up to the surface. And I leave the office and I'm not sure how to deal with this floating… _things_." Lexa blinked rapidly after having expended all  _that_. She refused to look at Clarke – well, more like she wasn't brave enough yet. "So Gus usually gives me suggestions as to what I can do to…deal with this floating things until they're no longer floating. And they usually work, you know. Today, he suggested that I come see you, so I came to see you," she concluded, swallowed deeply, and looked at Clarke.

"And how do you feel?"

Lexa had to fight a laugh. Of course, that would be Clarke's question – this was why Lexa adored the woman. "Not as floaty," she answered truthfully.

A hum escaped from the blonde's throat, satisfied and a little smug. Plus, it was hard to miss the contentment in Clarke's sparkling blue eyes at the thought. Yeah, Gus rarely ever had bad ideas.

"Well, I like seeing you not as floaty."

"I like not being floaty."

Lexa reached out to take the puppy, rather certain that she could handle a puppy. And to her delight, the thing woke up excitedly at her hands and didn't even hesitate to paw its way up her chest to lick her face vigorously, soon covering her skin in slobber. She didn't mind.

Once she had lowered to puppy to her lap, Clarke was staring at her with a small smile on her face, admiration and adoring at once.

"What?" Lexa asked self-consciously.

There was a moment where the doctor opened her mouth, very prepared to say whatever it was on her mind. Except she hesitated, eyed Lexa for another second, and closed her mouth as she turned towards Lincoln and Octavia. Lexa waited, but when Clarke was quiet a little too long, she opened her mouth to prompt Clarke to just spit it out, only to stop when the other woman looked back at her.

"Just so you know," the blonde began, hesitantly reaching out lace one hand with Lexa's – the brunette wondered if Clarke could feel her pulse quicken under her skin – "my history with Niylah…is just that. History. And it will stay that way."

Lexa blinked at the admission – it sounded layered to her, but Lexa had never been good at deciphering hidden messages. Her brows furrowed slightly and her free hand stopped stroking the puppy's hair as she stared at Clarke stare at her.

"You – you don't have to explain anything to me, Clarke."

With a tiny shrug, Clarke moved closer to her until the sides of their thighs touched on the tree trunk. She squeezed Lexa's hand once, twice, and said, "I know. I just want you to know."

* * *

The rainy Thursday had, thankfully, been just that. At exactly five in the morning, Lexa got out of bed after a rare restful sleep – she suspected it had something to do with having spent a whole afternoon with a certain pretty blonde doctor.

Not allowing that thought to delay her, the youngest Polis princess changed into her swimsuit and headed out to the pool, stretching her limbs and joints as she stood by the edge. She had just finished stretching her hamstring when someone showed up next to her – so unfamiliar an occurrence that Lexa had to remind herself that there were so many guards around her that there was no way this person could assassinate her in close distance.

She stood up straight to find Lincoln in his swimming trunks with his arms stretched overhead. She rolled her eyes and extended her arm to flick his forehead, eliciting an exaggerated yelp.

"Don't sneak up on veterans," she told him, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly. "Can I join you?"

She tilted at him, his features further darkened under the sky that was hanging between dawn and night. She couldn't see him clearly, but if she could, he'd be carrying an expectant look – one that hid his eagerness to be with his younger sister. Briefly, she wondered what he and Clarke had talked about during the short time they shared together yesterday when Lexa had to go to the bathroom.

"Sure."

"I like Clarke, by the way."

She couldn't help but smile, because as much as she wanted to hide Clarke away from everyone else a little longer, her older brother's approval was still nice. She hummed in response and made to dunk into the pool unceremoniously.

"Keep up, loser!"

While Lexa Woods had been used to being a lonely person, used to shit talking with comrades, unclear as to how to navigate with her family currently, she had to admit: swimming with her big brother before dawn broke was nice. She wouldn't mind doing it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't want to just gloss over lexa's ptsd just because she's seeing a therapist now, but i'm also not sure if i'm writing this right. i don't want to misinterpret anything, given that i have no experience with ptsd whatsoever, so if i've made any mistake, please do tell me so i can improve myself in the future.
> 
> also, lincoln is that quiet big brother who doesn't say shit but really loves lexa in a quiet way and really enjoys octavia's company in that quiet way of his and you can tear this headcanon out of my cold dead hands.
> 
> you can find me on twitter @ [embettah](https://twitter.com/embettah) or you can [LOVE ME](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me)
> 
> no, seriously, if you guys like my work and would like to support me in a more substantial way, PLEASE LOVE ME


	9. audi, vide, tace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, today has been so wild i can't even word it. i woke up and i choked on my own saliva when i saw eliza's tweet, and i legitimately thought it was a hack until i saw bob and then rottenbart's tweets. i'm like - it's all just so funny to me and i'm so glad i stan adc more than i stan eliza taylor. cw is so wild - it's like an orgy network wow i can't even kjfhekijewoj
> 
> but anyway, whatever the fuck is going on with that show and that network, my clexa ass stays. i was actually even thinking of postponing the posting of this chapter until a couple of weeks later, but i figure y'all probably need a little relief from that in the form of clexa fics - and i am here to oblige.
> 
> now, read, ponder, and forget about the fact that they actually got married holy fucking shit cw is just filled with cheaters huh what the fuck aren't we glad alycia got out before the contagion got to her omfg

_audi, vide, tace: hear, see, be silent_

* * *

 

"I can't."

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes, you can."

"No, I can't," Marcus said a little regrettably, but regret wasn't going to do shit in this situation. "Clarke, I understand, and I apologize. But I  _can't_."

"Marcus, he almost killed a patient."

"I will keep his name off the board from now on. He will only perform routine check-ups and nothing that requires him in the OR."

Gaping at the Chief of Surgery, Clarke couldn't quite believe that she had heard those words right. Just yesterday, she had been having a pretty good time. A  _very_ good time. One of the best times she had had in her entire life, if she was to be honest.

She couldn't help but felt some of her anger subside when she remembered how…utterly relaxed Lexa had been in her presence, unguarded and completely enamored with the puppies they had brought out to the beach. There was even a brief moment when she wanted to just give up all her decorum and lean forward to kiss the princess – a very brief moment that was interjected by the rationality that Lexa was definitely not ready for that kind of advancement yet.

Then Clarke had come back to work today, ready to do the first thing she had promised Finn Collins she'd do that night. She marched into Marcus Kane's office, calmly explained to him all that had happened, and demanded that proper punishment ought to be carried out, like, say, revoking his license as a medical practitioner and never let him anywhere near a hospital again.

"Did you hear what I said?" she asked, feeling the fire rise in her.

Marcus sighed and took off his glasses, as if this was hurting him. "Clarke, this is a complicated –"

"There is nothing complicated about the fact that Dr. Finn Collins almost killed a woman in the OR because he couldn't concentrate well enough. He is a disaster on two legs. He  _will_  end up killing someone in the future."

"Let's not be dramatic."

She raised her brows, daring him to say something more to bolster that claim. Smart enough as he was, Marcus knew to shut up.

"He is Dante Wallace's nephew."

Ah, Clarke got it now.

The Wallace family was, by no means, a big name in the medical industry. A business clan, through and through – development, mergers, food and beverages; you name it, they probably had their hands in it. If Clarke remembered correctly, the son, Cage Wallace, was involved in a hit-and-run that took a pregnant woman's life, but he got away with a slap on the hand in the form of community service and major compensation to the family. They were repulsive people.

They weren't much invested in the medical industry – not yet, at least – but the Wallace family was a big benefactor of Silver Hill. They sponsored medical equipment. Catered to parties. Funded the renovations. Introduced family members to accept treatment here.

Clarke had never understood why; she supposed she did now. And much as she hated it, she understood why Marcus was so reluctant. Still, "And?"

Marcus' brows twitched in slight irritation. "If I get rid of Collins now, this hospital will lose its biggest benefactor. We won't be able to run at all, let alone treat patients." Hearing those words come out of his mouth in that clipped accent of his only served to irritate her more. "I don't like it, but this hospital needs the money."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"Excuse me?"

She shook her head and gave herself some time to look around the huge office that Marcus was set up in. She absorbed the classy décor and the expensive furniture, the comfortable carpet and the nice as hell on-call room he had in the corner.

Lifting her hand, she absentmindedly waved it around the room. "The money from the Wallaces gave you this, huh?"

"Clarke –"

"I came to Silver Hill because I didn't want to work with my mother."

"Now –"

"Guess I forgot that you two are one and the same. That's why you're trying to sleep with her, right?"

" _Dr. Griffin_ ," he pronounced sternly, and Clarke had never seen Marcus so angry before, positively livid and looking like he was on the brink of leaping to his feet and yelling at her. Good. "I advise you to what you say next very carefully."

She clenched her jaw and licked her lower lip, standing up herself. "And  _I_ –" she adjusted the lapels of her coat and eyed him coldly "– advise you to watch Finn Collins carefully. If you don't do something about it, I  _assure_ you he  _is_ going to kill somebody eventually. And when that happens, not even all of the Wallaces' bullshit money can save you."

Before Marcus could chastise her for her less than graceful language, Clarke marched out of his office and to the nurse's station. Thankfully, her credentials were enough to access the logs for other doctors' current patients. If Marcus wasn't going to do something about it, the least she could do was make sure that Finn didn't another high-risk patient.

* * *

At the end of her shift, she had pretty much taken over two-thirds of Finn's patients, filling up her repertoire almost to the brim, and she could feel herself just about ready to collapse when the clock finally struck six in the morning and released her from her shift.

She had read through all of the notes that the interns had made, barely any from Finn Collins himself, and wondered  _how_ the fuck had this  _teaching_ hospital managed to hire such an incompetent doctor. The Wallaces may be powerful, but they  _couldn't_ be this powerful – there had to be some form of checks and balances that are actually ethical at the top. For a long moment, Clarke had to wonder if she made the right decision to join this hospital at all.

She made a mental note to call Niylah as she walked out of the hospital. She was just about to turn left where it would lead her to the park when a hand roughly grabbed her arm and swung her around, confronting her with a livid Finn Collins.

Oh goodie.

"What the hell, Clarke?" he hissed, almost right up to her face.

She took one look into his mouth and grimaced. "I may not be a dentist, Finn, but I think you should visit one."

" _All of my patients_?"

"You still have some rectal issues and bowel problems left on your list."

"Clarke."

"You're lucky you even still have a  _job_ , Finn," she hissed right back at him, tired of his incessant habit of complaining and inability to see his own faults. "You're lucky that you have Dante Wallace backing you," she added, quieter this time, relishing in his surprised blink. She smirked. "What? You think I wouldn't find out?"

He clenched his jaw, eyes growing darker. "I swear to god –"

"Is there a problem here?"

They spun around back up the way that led back to the hospital to see Octavia and Lincoln there, looking simultaneously confused and unhappy at they were looking at. Clarke had to bite back her surprise from seeing her best friend and the literal  _prince_ standing outside the hospital she was working at, because there was something more important that she was dealing with. She took the chance to step back from Finn and cleared her throat.

"No, Finn was just heading back to work." At that, she shot the man a pointed look. "Isn't he?"

Finn was still gaping at the fact that he was looking at the  _prince_  in the flesh. She wouldn't really blame him. Not even a week ago, he met the second princess of the country in the garden.

People needed time to process that kind of thing. She knew she inhaled two tubs of vanilla ice-cream after Lexa had left Libya six months ago to even accept that she had actually met the princess. Still, he could inhale his ice-cream at some other time. Now, she needed him to get the hell away from her face before she actually revealed his secrets to the actual prince.

There were things to be done. Procedures to go through. Niylah to call. But telling members of the monarchy was definitely the very last resort to handle this whole mess.

Fortunately, Finn only nodded meekly and even  _bowed_ at Lincoln for like five seconds. Clarke and Octavia's eyes met as Lincoln stared at Finn with increasing horror, and they had to keep their cool to not burst out laughing at the sight. Then the failing doctor stood up straight, cleared his throat, shot the blonde a desperate look, and scurried back the way he had just come, leaving the three of them standing by the sidewalk.

As soon as Finn was out of sight, Clarke sobered up immediately. "Your Highness –"

"Lincoln," he corrected, though he still looked confused. "I am Lincoln to my sister's…friends."

She gulped, even blushed a little, as she understood the meaning behind his hesitation. "Lincoln," she breathed, shooting a short glance at Octavia, "please don't tell Lexa about what you just saw."

If there was anything that Clarke had learned about their last encounter near the Avicenna statue, it was that Lexa did not take too kindly to threats. And it wasn't that Clarke wanted to brag about it, but she definitely did not mistake the undercurrent that had been building between her and the princess since the moment Clarke had chosen to stay as requested.

So Clarke was pretty sure that if Lexa heard about this, this entire hospital would have a storm coming. And she didn't want that. Despite the power play, she  _liked_ it here – the people, the patients, the things she got to do.

"Who was that?"

"Finn," Octavia offered.

"Nobody," Clarke replied at the same time. The two best friends shared a long look – one of desperation and another of consternation. She sucked in a deep breath and calmed her mind that had spiraled at the wild turn this whole thing had taken, facing Lincoln again. "That was no one. It was nothing. I can handle it myself. Lexa's got a lot on her plate. There's no need for her to worry about more."

"We both know she'll always care about you."

"Exactly," she admitted and extended a hand in his direction like he had just proven her point. "Please."

Lincoln was certainly displeased with her request. If they were closer, he would probably ignore her, even. But they weren't. They had literally just met like two days ago. Granted, surrounded by puppies, and puppies were known to be great bonding agents, but  _two days ago_. They met once because they both cared about Lexa, and now, he was outside her hospital with her  _best friend_.

The prince nodded in reluctant acquiescence.

She smiled widely and stuck her hands together in front of her chest in thankful gesture. "Thank you." She licked her lips and glanced oddly at Octavia, who at least had the decency to look sheepish. "Now, I just finished a very long shift and I'd very much like to go home. It's, uh, nice to see you again…Lincoln."

"We're talking about this later," Octavia shot at her as she took retreating steps down the sidewalk.

"Oh, we're not," Clarke remarked with a smirk.

If she had her way, Finn would be the last thing they'd be talking about when the three of them finally got together.

* * *

The sun had just gone halfway down from its midpoint above their heads when she woke up for a new day. Clarke lazed around in bed for awhile, hoping that it would help in getting all the uncomfortable kinks out and delay having to think about the latest dilemma she was forced to take on at the hospital.

Once she had convinced herself there was no more escaping and the music was becoming increasingly loud in her head, she pulled herself out of bed and started the coffee machine in the kitchen as she scrolled down her contact list to find her once-upon-a-bedmate's.

She didn't wait for any greeting when the call was finally picked up, launching immediately into, "Hypothetically, you have explicit knowledge of a medical practitioner's wrongful behavior and, honestly, unethical misdemeanor, what do you have to do about it?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the call, and then she heard Niylah whispering inaudibly and some shuffling of papers and the muffled click of the door. "I would have thought you would have run out of hypotheticals after getting your board certification."

Clarke closed her eyes with a huff, mumbling gibberish gratitude when the coffee had finished percolating and going ahead to pour herself a fresh cup of piping hot black caffeine. She pinned the phone between her ear and shoulder as her hands began to toss in sugar and creamer because she wasn't a monster.

"Trust me, me too," she grumbled as she started stirring the coffee.

"Do I want to know?"

"It's hypothetical."

"Are you in trouble?"

"Hypothetical, Niylah."

"You remember that you're literally best friends with a princess, right?"

She abandoned the spoon to lift a finger in the air, even though Niylah wouldn't be able to see it, but she was still trying to make her points. "One: she's not my best friend." Best friends were Raven and Octavia, occasionally even Niylah and Bellamy. Lexa was not her best friend; she was decidedly more – not that Clarke would tell anyone that. Then she lift another finger. "Two: it's hypothetical."

Niylah sighed loudly, because they had known each other since that certain sorority party in junior year and she knew Clarke  _very well_. "The Council would consider you to be an accomplice by accessory," Niylah said. "It works the same for all doctors, including mental health specialists."

Clarke bit her lower lip and hummed. "Okay, so hypothetically, I tried to report to the Chief of Surgery, but they refuse –"

"You mean he."

" _They_ ," Clarke emphasized, closing her eyes and quietly decrying Niylah's intelligence, "refuse to do anything about it, because funding plays a role."

Niylah took some time to contemplate the situation that Clarke had just laid out for her. The doctor had been using hypotheticals because there was no way she would put Niylah in the position where she'd have to choose between ethics and her friend.

But the two of them knew fully well that this was long past hypothetical – still, Clarke chose to stick to it, if only to save her friend from dipping a whole foot into it.

The psychiatrist heaved an audible sigh over the phone and cleared her throat. "Clarke,  _hypothetically_ , based on everything you had just told me, you  _need_ to go to the Council. They can try to cover up as much as possible – money is very useful, I know that very well. But paper can't hold the fire for long, and sooner or later,  _someone_ will find out, and you'll be dragged into it. And you  _will_ lose your license."

Clarke kept her eyes closed, squeezing them shut tighter, as she contemplated a future as anything other than a doctor.

"Thanks, Niylah."

"Clarke," the psychiatrist said with a warning tone in her voice.

Clarke heaved a sigh and finally opened her eyes as she resumed stirring the coffee. "I'll be fine."

"I swear to hypothetical god that I will hypothetically beat you up if you hypothetically get fired. Maybe even hypothetically kill you."

Unable to help herself, the doctor burst into peals of laughter. When she calmed down, she said, "I think you're taking hypotheticals a little too far."

"You started it," Niylah deadpanned. "Take care of yourself, Griffin."

Once they had hung up, Clarke leaned back against the counter and started sipping on some sweet, wonderful,  _awakening_ coffee. Her mind began to resume its tour to a future without her boards certification, without the job of being a doctor.

Well, she could draw, she supposed, but it had been quite some time since she actually picked up a pen and do something other than random doodles.

But while drawing could be cathartic and much more calming than being a doctor, she hated the idea of losing that  _thrill_  that came with being a doctor, especially a trauma surgeon. Much as she hated to say it, Clarke had grown addicted to it. To the rush of new patients and new dilemmas and new complications. It got her heart pumping and her mind racing like nothing else. And she  _loved_ it.

* * *

Five hours had gone past since she sat herself down in front of her laptop and made herself draft the email that could save her career and ruin another's. Five hours, and she had only managed to come up with the words 'to whom it may concern'.

No one ever said she was a proficient writer. This was why she was a doctor. Her chicken scratch penmanship and barely passing grades during English class should be telling enough.

She was still staring at the blinker and cursing herself for not paying attention to Mrs. Hummings during a letter writing class in third grade, when her phone buzzed next to the third empty cup of coffee that she had drained today. No sleep was being had tonight, which wouldn't do well with her shift tomorrow evening, but fuck that.

Without looking at the caller ID, she picked it up and said, maybe a little too harshly, "What?"

"Um, are you okay?"

It took awhile, but there was no way Clarke wouldn't recognize that voice. "Oh, Lexa, hey!" she greeted, her harsh tone immediately shifting into one of surprise and gladness.

"Hi. Are you okay?"

Clarke blinked. "Yeah, I'm…" She drifted off, finding herself hitting a little roadblock. Was it considered treason to lie to the princess even though it didn't really concern the princess? Plus, Clarke didn't really want to lie to Lexa. "It's been a confusing day," she decided. "Why do you ask?"

"I just – I don't know how to explain it, but I've been feeling weird all day, and somehow I kind of thought it has to do with you." Without having to see the princess in the flesh, Clarke knew that Lexa was feeling hesitant. Doubtful. Uncertain. "Sorry if I'm overstepping, though."

"No, no!" Clarke quickly corrected her.

Honestly, she didn't know what to feel at the idea of Lexa being able to feel that something weird was going on all the way over at the palace. If Clarke was a more superstitious person, she would have just thought of things like soulmates or connections. But Clarke was scientific person – she was a doctor, all about facts and truths and chemistry.

This was no science. This was just…romantic.

She smiled and flicked herself in the forehead lightly for even daring to think it. "Thank you for calling. I am okay."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Good."

"Go –"

Clarke shook her head, looking up at the ceiling. Would she ever be a normal person when she was talking to Lexa? Probably not.

Just two days ago, she had definitely revealed to Lexa that she and Niylah used to sleep with each other, even though it had been a plan to keep it under wraps forever. She was being ridiculous – Alexandria Woods was driving her crazy, and Clarke was pretty sure she wanted to keep being crazy.

"How are  _you_?"

"Oh, I'm – I'm – I'm good. Yeah, it's uh – I mean, yeah, I'm okay too," Lexa stuttered.

Clarke could only think that she was adorable. And kind of sad. Lexa had, obviously, been taken aback by the blonde's turning the question round back to her, not expecting to be asked of her own state of mind.

And Clarke had to wonder how often was Lexa ever asked how she was without any motives other than to truly know  _how she was_. She wanted to know if the princess had anyone else who genuinely wanted her to be as happy and comfortable as possible with no ulterior motives, apart from her family and giant of a bodyguard. Clarke wanted to offer herself up as all of those things, just so Lexa knew that she had other people too.

"Why confusing?"

"Huh?"

"You said it's been a confusing day," Lexa remarked.

"Oh, I –" Clarke reached up to scratch at her temple as she considered her words and what she could tell Lexa without giving everything up. "It's just…work," she mumbled, adding on a sigh. It wasn't just work – it was ethics and the hospital and her career and the corporate reality that had gripped onto even the best country that she could think of. But it wasn't like she could tell Lexa those things. "I'm finding it hard to make a decision that shouldn't be hard."

Lexa hummed, like she knew something about it. Sometimes, Clarke forgot that the princess was actually a veteran. Someone who had been to an actual battlefield, killed people, nearly lost a leg in the name of the country her father ruled, and had to now use a cane to compensate for said damaged leg. Lexa definitely knew about making difficult choices than Clarke, that was for sure.

On any other day, if Lexa was any other person, Clarke would try to pick her brain and see what she could do.

But this was not any other day and Lexa was not any other person. Lexa Woods was daughter of King Richmond the Third. They pretty much set the law for the running of the country, including the healthcare services that were provided in this country, which did not exclude Silver Hill. It was probably even worse that Silver Hill was a  _teaching_ hospital.

This was her own battle to fight, blood or no blood. Plus, Clarke wasn't lying when she told Lincoln that she didn't want to add on to his sister's already very full plate.

"Hey, so I'm suddenly craving some Big Mac," Lexa suddenly said.

The blonde blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Um, okay?"

"You wanna share one with me?"

Another blink. And then a disbelieving laughter escaped her throat. This was the oddest and yet most relieving thing to happen to her. This whole day, Clarke had been feeling so heavy and so at odds with herself and the world, not even knowing that she secretly wanted something to come and take her mind off it.

Not even knowing that she wanted that something in the form of Lexa's voice in her ear, calming and soothing and oh so velvety.

"I'll be right there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the only marriage i care about is "i swear fealty to you clarke kom skaikru i vow to treat your needs as my own and your people as my people" 
> 
> holy fucking shit i cannot even lmaooooooooo i still haven't stopped laughing i'm laughing while writing this author's note TODAY HAS BEEN WILD
> 
> meanwhile, you can find me on twitter @ [embettah](https://twitter.com/embettah) or you can [LOVE ME](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me) please love me


	10. ceteris paribus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all are gonna like this
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_ceteris paribus: all other things being equal_

* * *

 

At the slightest whiff of nicotine, she whirled around and didn't even hesitate to reach out and tug the cigarette from Gustus' mouth, tossing it on the ground and stamping it out with her sneaker. When he glared at her halfheartedly, she just raised a brow, practically daring him to do something to her for preventing him from being one stick closer to dying.

"Does Penelope really condone this at home?" When he remained quiet, she hummed. "Maybe I'll have a conversation with her. Talk to her about how it's not healthy that she's allowing her husband to –"

"She doesn't know," he finally grunted, cutting her off with an exasperated tone.

"Better. I'll just tell her about her husband who's been chain-smoking behind her back."

"I haven't been chain-smoking," he protested with affront.

She narrowed her eyes, lifted her foot, and pointed down at the wilted cigarette. "I'm pretty sure that's from your third pack today."

"It's –"

He huffed and shifted uncomfortably. She hid her smirk at that. Gustus was known for his stoicism and overprotectiveness – people had even speculated that he was Terminator in real life, unmovable but fiercely defensive over his ward, which was Lexa.

She loved that she was the only one who could do this to him. Get him to speak. Get him to simply react. Lexa was certain that the only other person who could do this was her father, and that was only because Gustus had been Richmond's bodyguard before he was Lexa's.

She pointed a finger at his face, almost poking into his left nostril. "One pack a day, or I'm gonna tell your wife."

He narrowed his eyes at her before pushing her hand away from his face. "You are a blabbermouth," he complained as they began meandering down the path that led to the usual park that she went to.

"Consider it payback for telling my father about my former nightly habits," she replied easily and threw him a wink when he shot her a glare.

They had reached the benches and went on autopilot as they took seats on their respective benches. Yards away from him, she could see his fingers twitching in a habit to take out the pack of cigarettes in his jacket.

She made sure to keep staring at him, daring him to do it. She kind of wanted him to do it, because she'd been thinking of a way to pay him back for blabbering off to her father in the first place. Plus, she wanted him to be healthy, and he was awfully subservient to his wife, for some reason.

"Jesus, are you kidding me?"

She snapped her head around to find Clarke standing a few yards away from the both of them, half glaring and half gaping at her. Lexa blinked, suddenly uncertain as to how to react to this unwarranted animosity from the blonde. She had sounded so excited on the phone just twenty minutes ago.

And how did Lexa not notice her coming anyway? Christ, she was losing her game and alertness. All in the face of a pretty blonde doctor and the desire to keep teasing her robot of a bodyguard. Speaking of which, she turned back to Gustus, who looked expressionless to just about any stranger, but definitely not Lexa, because she could see the slight uptick of the left corner of his beard and the prominent lines at the corner of his eyes.

Traitor.

Looking back to Clarke, the blonde was still gaping at her, but Lexa was finally catching onto the appreciation in those blue eyes, thanks to the streetlights that had been newly installed just last week.

Ah, she got it now, allowing the flattery to surface in a rare appearance. Then again, she didn't quite get it – due to the suddenness of this McDonald's run, Lexa had opted to head out in her pajamas, which was just a set of T-shirt and a pair of short, along with a grey hoodie. It wasn't the most outstanding of outfits, in her opinion.

Clarke groaned, dramatizing her displeasure by throwing her head back, and headed towards Lexa after offering Gustus a perfunctory nod. "This is ridiculous. Whatever. Where's my Big Mac?" Clarke demanded once she had sat down next to Lexa on the bench. "Also, you're kind of obsessed with this bench."

"What is ridiculous?" Lexa goaded, ignoring Clarke's dig about the bench and gesturing at the McDonald's takeaway bag.

The blonde began to dig into the bag and surfaced with a Big Mac and a big Coke. "Just you and your entirely ridiculous good looking thing going on," she said airily as she unwrapped the food. "And aren't you cold? What were you thinking coming out in shorts?"

"You think I'm good looking?" Lexa asked, humming in thanks when Clarke handed her the other Big Mac in the bag.

Clarke threw her an unimpressed look. "I think we've established that very early on."

"I just wanted to confirm."

"Don't be smug."

"I got you Big Mac and this is how you talk to me," Lexa said as she shook her head. "Don't do good deeds, is what they say."

"Your face simply upsets me," Clarke retorted while munching on bits of the Big Mac. "This whole thing –" she made circles with said Big Mac at Lexa's face "– is absolutely offensive. Should be illegal."

"Careful. Next thing you know, you'll be telling me you want to kiss me." It came back out before Lexa could stop herself. And once it was out, it was out.

Her Big Mac was frozen halfway to her mouth, and she kept her gaze on the ground as she could feel Clarke stiffen next to her at the remark. Shit. Shit.  _Shit._ Fuck, she should have kept her mouth shut. There must be something in the air of this park when the sun had set. She just kept saying or doing ridiculous shit, and that was always in Clarke's presence.

"Do you actually want an answer to that?" This time, there was no sign of joking around or humor in Clarke's voice.

When Lexa looked at her again, all the teasing was gone from the blonde's expression, only curiosity and preparedness. For a moment, the princess wondered what it was like to be this brave. She definitely didn't miss the way the blonde's eyes flitting down to her lips for a second and then back to her eyes. It wasn't like Clarke was trying to be subtle about it either.

Her heart stuttered in her chest at the thought of actually kissing Clarke. God only knew how many times she had dreamt about it, including that time she woke up in the morning after a particularly savory one, which caused her to be late to therapy because she spent half an hour getting herself off and then added on to the swimming to expend her reserved energy.

That was a good morning.

Lexa wanted let herself go, restraint be damned, and just do it already. Fulfill her fantasies and take this very odd non-friendship one step further. The both of them were very much aware that they were definitely not  _just_ friends.

But she couldn't. She had a problem. She was ill. This illness could be dangerous, from what she had seen amongst her former comrades and the research she had done. Her family was already inevitable subjects to her bouts – she wouldn't subject Clarke to it as well. She refused to be so selfish, despite the blonde's reassurances that she was there to stay.

"You wanna tell me about this decision that shouldn't be hard?" she deflected.

She could feel her resolve breaking a little at the flash of disappointment crossing Clarke's azure irises before it was replaced with acceptance and hesitation. "No, not really." Lexa raised a brow, not quite used to Clarke shutting her off like that, and Clarke must have seen it on her face, because she hurried to add, "It's just – it's kind of complicated and the less people who know, the better. I just don't want to involve…people."

The soldier in Lexa wanted to pursue further, especially when she heard the slight inflection in Clarke's voice that probably didn't mean anything. Except Lexa was smart enough, had handled enough subordinates, somehow knew enough of the doctor's tonal shifts, to know that there was something more. Something that troubled Clarke so much that she didn't want to tell Lexa about it.

She could easily invoke her status as royalty to force Clarke to tell her about it, but she remembered her promise just a little over a month ago, when they saw each other again in this park after six months of being apart. She was Lexa with Clarke, and not the princess. And Lexa, just a girl who was half in love and wanted to be the best friend she could be to the blonde, wasn't going to be one to pressure Clarke into saying anything.

"Alright," she offered with a nod.

If Clarke wanted to talk, she would listen. If not, she would sit here and remind Clarke that she was here. It was that simple.

* * *

_Lexa (11:49p.m.): Can you wait?_

_Clarke (11:50p.m.): wait 4 wat?_

_Lexa (11:50p.m.): To give me an answer if I get better._

_Clarke (11:58p.m.): lexa, WHEN u get better, im gonna do it rather than just giving u an answer  
Clarke (11:58p.m.): thx for the big mac btw – its the best big mac ive evr had_

_Lexa (12:02a.m.): Goodnight, doctor._

_Clarke (12:03a.m.): good night, your highness._

* * *

"Oh,  _good god_!"

Lexa covered her eyes with a hand and slammed the door close the other, moving to the side and leaning against the wall as she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. Inside the room, she could muffled giggles and words, the people seemingly unfazed by her intrusion of their…activity. Yeah, it seemed like no matter how much scrubbing she needed, the image would forever be burned into her brain.

Talk about traumatizing.

A few moments later, the occupants of the room finally came out, smug looks on their faces, as if they hadn't just been caught half naked and almost doing the dirty behind an unlocked door. She crossed her arms and made sure that her sister and her fiancé were at the receiving end of her patented glare. Then again, they were so used to her that they wouldn't be fazed in the least.

Anya had the audacity to shrug at her, while Roan just stood behind her sister, following her cue, as he always did in this building. At least he was smart enough for that.

" _My_  study," Lexa bit out.

"Have you seen him?" Anya said and scrunched her nose as she reached behind her to touch Roan's cheek. "I couldn't resist."

Lexa followed Anya's hand and took a long look at her future brother in law. "I'm too gay for this," she whispered and shook her head. "At least have the decency to feel ashamed that you almost had sex on my couch, for the love of god," she chastised and headed back in, eying the couch in disdain. "Now I'm going to burn it. Mom wouldn't be happy."

Anya made a clicking noise with her tongue as the couple followed her in, sitting back on the couch like it was no big deal. She stroked the fabric gently and smirked at the youngest Woods. "I have a feeling that Mom and Dad got frisky on this couch too. After all, you did get it from their previous collection of bedroom set."

"Oh my god!" Lexa yelped, sticking her fingers in her ears and vigorously shaking her head.

Now, she had to shake not only the images of her sister's side boob and Roan's ass from her mind, but also her parents getting down and dirty on that very couch. Ikea – she was going to Ikea tomorrow. Muffled laughter could be heard and she rolled her eyes at the childish couple, removing her fingers from her hears and making a note to wash out her eyes later.

"What do you want?" she asked, beyond unimpressed.

"So remember when I proposed?" Roan pointed out innocently. She narrowed her eyes, nodding in confirmation. "Yeah, your mother just informed us that apparently we have to actually do something about it." Lexa tilted her head. "Like a wedding, a church, the whole shebang."

She raised her brows at him, kind of at a loss, and then slowly averted her gaze to her sister, who was smirking at the brunette and not offering anything else. Right, because Anya loved making things hard for her siblings. "Yes, isn't that…what an engagement is supposed to lead to?" she slowly worded out, uncertain as to whether they were being deliberately obtuse.

"We were thinking elopement," Anya shot out, her canines showing her mischievousness. Lexa rarely saw her sister smile so widely. "Maybe at Floukru. I heard Luna's ordained."

Lexa's eyes widened and she jumped up so quickly that she didn't gauge the position of her bum leg, causing to bump into the desk and the items to rattle so loudly that even the other two occupants of the room were alarmed. She held up a hand at them and steadied herself, wincing a little at the unnecessary ache that arced through her hip.

She took a deep breath and wondered for a minute if she remembered to take her medicine this morning after breakfast. She should probably check her medication box later when she was left alone.

And then she directed her wide eyes at the twosome. "Dad would  _kill_ you," she hissed.

"Yeah, Mom said that."

Lexa inhaled sharply. " _You told her_?"

"She ambushed us," Roan intercepted, like  _that_ was the worst thing in this conversation.

"Yeah, because you ambushed the nation with your relationship  _and_ engagement in one go  _five months_ ago, and then it's tumbleweeds since then."

"We were enjoying engagement bliss."

" _Clearly_ ," Lexa snapped, shuddering when she remembered what she had witnessed mere minutes ago.

"Alright, so, apparently, we have to, like, plan our wedding and stuff now," Anya said with a dismissive wave of her hands, like it wasn't a big deal. Like the crown princess getting married wouldn't be an event of probably decade. Like her wedding wouldn't be the biggest occasion this country had seen in almost fifty years. "And I thought I'd get this out of the way."

"Which is?"

"You as my maid of honor."

Lexa's heart jumped a little at the thought. She looked at her sister, more like gaped, actually. And suddenly, the teasing expression had dropped, and in its place, was a tender looking smile and gentle eyes, a little pleading and a little moving, staring back at her. And the brunette almost felt her heart swell to such fullness it might explode.

Unlike her younger sister, Anya did not lack in the friends department. She had friends everywhere, in every state, in almost every country, in every room in this palace. Anya might put out this façade of toughness and unattainable, but in private, she was the most mischievous and would always say the right words to reach the right people. Among them all, Anya's best friend was Echo Lux, her roommate in college.

And yet, Anya didn't ask Echo. Not any of her friends in her wide social circle. Instead, she had chosen to come to Lexa's wing, ruin her precious couch, and ask  _her_.

To stop herself from crying, Lexa feigned a frown and leaned against the desk. She refused to cry in front of Roan, no matter how much she liked him. "Wait, are you telling or asking?" she prodded.

And then the tenderness was gone. Because they were sisters, and Anya knew her very well, so well that she understood that this was Lexa's way of accepting and her way of blocking her emotions from showing in front of unfamiliarity. Anya smirked and stood up, pulling her fiancé up with her and heading towards the door.

"Telling. You can't escape this." Lexa had expected her to just walk out like that, but her sister surprised her again by pushing the man out the door and closing it behind her again. Anya pressed back against the door with the same expression from before again, shaking her head at the brunette. "You shouldn't be surprised. You're my sister."

"Yeah, I –" Lexa took a deep breath and looked to the ceiling for a long while as she tried to stave off her emotions. For fuck's sake, she was supposed to be a  _soldier_. "I thought after my behavior recently –"

"That doesn't make you my sister any less," Anya retorted, approaching Lexa and placing her hands on the younger woman's forearms. "You're…a little cracked and leaking some sane juice, I won't deny that." Lexa heaved a wet laughter at that. "But you're still my sister. And I love you. And there's no one else I'd want on that altar with me than you, do you understand?"

Lexa nodded and didn't even hesitate to make the first move this time as she leaned forward and engaged Anya in a strong embrace, eliciting a surprised yelp. They hugged for a long time, Anya letting Lexa take the reins this time.

When they finally let go of each other, both couldn't keep their eyes from the couch. Lexa didn't miss out on the opportunity to reach out and slap her sister's arm.

"You're telling Mom that I'm burning that couch."

"What? No!"

"Yes, or I'm telling Dad about your elopement plans."

"Lexa, dear sister, the army has changed you."

* * *

One of the things that Niylah had advised her to do more often to mend her relationship with her family was to start joining them for breakfast, rather than having her own breakfast extra early and retreating to her study just as everyone else was staring to wake up. Apparently, breakfast was the most important meal of the day, and for the royal family, breakfast was probably the only moment for the day where the conversations wouldn't involved much, if any, of work or duties.

Lexa had remembered to point out to them that she wanted no part in the planning of the wedding. If it were up to her, she'd just invite the important people and make sure the main couple of the day would show up at the church with their rings. She would do away with the carriage and the broadcast and the whole ridiculousness of planning a wedding. She had often thought that weddings were only for the people watching rather than the two people actually getting married.

And then, after breakfast, she excused herself and went down to her study, listening to her secretary tell her about the calls and emails she had gotten and working together to organize meetings for the week to come.

"And Service Day is next Friday," Rachel sheepishly offered once they were inside her office.

Lexa groaned at the reminder. "Okay."

"Mr. Jaha called yesterday when you were out of office."

The princess stilled in her seat, the letter opener frozen halfway in the air – if they didn't know better, it would almost seem like she wanted to stab her secretary. She eyed the younger woman warily and asked, "Why?"

"Um," Rachel drifted off and began to look more pensive, if that was even possible. Telling this to Lexa was obviously the last thing she wanted to do. Otherwise, she wouldn't have made it the last item on her list. "He wanted you to give a speech. On Service Day. It'll be broadcasted to our soldiers overseas. He thought it would raise morale and –"

"Absolutely not," Lexa cut her off sharply and curtly, not even caring that the woman jumped a little. "You can tell Mr. Jaha that I will not be involved in his greed or allow him to turn me into a capitalistic commodity on a day that is supposed to  _respect_ and  _be grateful_ to our soldiers within and without this country." With a vicious snap, the opener had sliced open the flap of the first letter rather ungracefully. She pulled the paper out, paused, and added, "Verbatim."

Rachel nodded and scuttled out as quickly as she could.

Lexa wouldn't claim to know that she knew all the ins and outs of the Parliament – given that she was fourth in line for the throne, and probably would be demoted when Anya and Roan finally decided to reproduce, she didn't think it was necessary for her to be entirely familiar with the way the government worked. But she had taken a special interest in women's initiatives, military issues, and veterans' affairs.

And after her honorary discharge, she had gotten even more involved with the Veterans' Agency and Defense Department in order to dispatch her program smoothly. That consequently meant increased interactions with the heads of both organizations. While she liked Callie Cartwig of the Veterans' Agency just fine, she found herself very much at disdain with Thelonious Jaha of the Defense Department.

It was obvious from their first meeting that he was just the man behind the desk and had only two years of experience on tour before he himself was honorably discharged. They called it a heart condition; she would like to call it cowardice. Certainly, national security was the top of his concerns, but he was also a man who sought profits and victory with no regard to the soldiers that were deployed on his command. He wanted to win more than he cared about the welfare of the men and women who were driving the tanks and shooting the rifles.

And since that first meeting, she had decided that talking to him would not do anything to help her initiative, which was why she decided to move her target to his deputy, who was much more amicable and understanding. Becca Franco also served to be the buffer between her and Jaha, which was just the way she liked it. Plus, Lexa had a feeling that Jaha was even halfway as supportive of the program she had initiated with regards to the veterans was because she was the princess – otherwise, he wouldn't have been so generous with the current funding towards the program.

Regardless, there was no way she would allow Jaha to use her as a mouthpiece to further his agenda. The solders deserved better than that. They didn't need a mouthpiece. They didn't need her to show up on television to boost their morale. When a soldier was out there, they didn't care about their King's daughter on a tiny screen telling them how grateful she was.

They cared about their mission and their goals. They cared about surviving the desert and the polluted water. They cared about sneaking in just a little bit of smile, if only to ensure that their sanity stayed intact enough for them to go home to their families. They cared about going home.

* * *

"While I sympathize," Niylah started as she tapped the butt of her red pen on the glass top of her desk to a random rhythm, "you didn't exactly come back in perfect shape yourself."

Lexa watched as the pen tap and tap and tap – for a moment, she was reminded of the click of cartridges in rifles. She considered Niylah's observation and thought back to the events that had transpired since she came home in a chopper and woke up in an executive suite in a hospital. She looked at the cane that was propped against her chair and thought how much her family had to spend to even afford her the opportunity of using the cane and keeping her leg.

"I still came back in better condition than most."

"Do you think that's true?" Niylah immediately threw back, raising her brows. "Because of your father, we have pretty ideal healthcare plans and insurance policies. Yes, maybe post-deployment treatment is lacking, but I'm sure you and your father are working together to better it." Lexa nodded. "Some soldiers come back with all their limbs intact and their families hold. Some don't. That's just the way it is in military. Meanwhile,  _you_  come back with a bum leg and a case of PTSD."

"I'm still the princess. I get better treatment than most. I live in a fucking palace, for the love of god."

"But, at the end of the day, you're  _still_ human, are you not?" Niylah pointed out, patient as ever. "Here's something I really don't like about the rhetoric that people come to my office with, which is that you think you're better than a lot of people and that somehow makes you undeserving of  _feeling_ the pain you are in. You can't put your problems on a playing field. Yes, you are the princess of this country, but you are also a veteran who suffers from PTSD. That is a fact. Therefore, it doesn't make you any less of a human being for wanting to feel as much as you can."

"What about the people around me?" Lexa almost yelled at the psychiatrist. "I can barely sleep. I lash out at them. What if I hurt them? Even if I don't want to?"

"Your Highness," Niylah sighed, leaning forward from her chair to lean against the desk. The pen had stopped tapping and been abandoned. The psychiatrist's fingers were laced together as she shot the princess a thoughtful look. "The people around you are  _still_ around you, aren't they?"

Lexa stilled at the proclamation.

"Once again, yes, you have a problem, but it's not your fault. PTSD is  _not_ your fault," Niylah stressed. "You're here because you want to face it and you want to get rid of it as a problem, but if you allow it to hinder you from what you want to do and what you deserve, then you wouldn't have much of a life either way. Then what is the point of you paying me five hundred dollars an hour at all?"

* * *

The sun was already setting by the time she had exited Niylah's office. But this time, she didn't feel as lost or heavy as she usually was after a session. In fact, she could hardly remember the last time she felt so purposeful, so much so that she didn't even need Gustus to tell her where to go after they got out to the streets.

By the time they arrived to the apartment building, the sun had already retired for the day and the moon had taken over, illuminating the streets in harmony with the streetlights. There was a light breeze that brushed through grasses and trees, whistling through the particles and singing in her ears. She felt light, but not the bad kind of light. She didn't even wait for Gustus case the surroundings out before she ignored the elevator in favor of the stairs, climbing them two steps at a time until she reached the intended floor.

Her sneakers screeched to a halt outside the door she was looking for. She was panting. Her heart was pounding like never before. Once, she had thought that being invaded by insurgents at two in the morning in the middle of Libya would be the most nerve wracking thing she could experience. That thought turned out to be false, as her fist came to a pause an inch from the door.

 _If you allow it to hinder you from what you want to do and what you deserve, you wouldn't have much of a life either way_.

She closed her eyes, took five deep breaths, in and out, slow and steady. Calm down, soldier. This wasn't a thirteen year old boy with a turban and an AK-47 in his lanky arms. This wasn't a dilapidated cabin that could very well be the base of an LIFG faction. This was an apartment building north of Harley Oaks in Polis. This was no warzone.

Her fist rapped on the door three times. She allowed her arms to hang by her sides as she waited for it to open. Her sharp ears picked up on Gustus finally catching up to her at the end of the corridor, picked up on the crickets harmonizing, picked up on the wind whistling, and picked up on the muffled footsteps on the other side of the door.

The lock rattled. The knob twisted. The door opened.

"Lexa?"

The princess took one look at Clarke, taking in her honey blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and the loose sweater and the sleep shorts and the shining blue eyes that had changed the course of Lexa's life the moment they laid on her. Lexa took one look at Clarke, and she pushed forward, gently cradled Clarke's cheeks in her hands, and captured her lips with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end. 
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> kidding, no. there are still some things to figure out - like finn and abby and lexa's ptsd and the whole shebang but yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy they kissed
> 
> also i don't even watch the show anymore but what the fuck how dare jrot use recycled footage to fuck me up what the fuck
> 
> meanwhile, you can find me on twitter @ [embettah](https://twitter.com/embettah) or you can [LOVE ME](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me) please love me


	11. memento vivere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the following are my reasons for being more than a month late with this:
> 
> 1\. i was distracted with other one shots  
> 2\. i had to take my final exams and finish up my final projects  
> 3\. i finished university!  
> 4\. i was too nervous about my final final final results ever to give a shit about writing anything  
> 5\. i got really good grades and then i decided to become an entirely useless person by bumming around the house and do nothing  
> 6\. i had to start looking for a job after spending too long bumming around
> 
> as you can see, i was busy :-) also, i can't write smut :--)
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_memento vivere: remember to live_

* * *

 

What?

What was happening?

Was this a dream?

Was this some kind of effervescent being taking pity on her recent troubles and allowing her some kind of respite?

A very nice respite. The most beautiful dream. Clarke did not want to wake up or get up. She wanted to keep relishing in this respite, thrive in this dream, keep on living it like there was no tomorrow.

Literally, what?

Of all the things that Clarke had imagined today to turn out, it wasn't this.

She had just come back from a daytime shift at the hospital – ever since that morning's debacle with Finn Collins, she had put in a request to swap her shifts with her colleagues in the trauma department to avoid being in the building at the same time as Finn's; it was a short-term solution, because she had convinced herself that it would give her enough time to figure out her next steps.

Then she had showered, ordered in from the nearby Thai restaurant, and sat down in front of  _MacGyver_ reruns to get her mind off Finn Collins and her career and the corruption that obviously even plagued the cleanest hospital she could find in Polis. After she had finished her Pad Thai, somehow, something in her mind had convinced her to finally take action and stop delaying.

Because in the back of her mind, she knew exactly what she had to do. The appropriate course of action. The ethical thing to do.

The only thing that had been pulling her back was that Marcus Kane, despite his current courtship with her mother and the absolute shithole that he had dug himself into as the Chief of Surgery, was a family friend.

Despite their strained relationship right now, there was no denying that Marcus had been there for her and her mother after her father passed away when she was sixteen. He had taken things over from her mother and arranged for one of the beautiful funerals that Clarke had ever witnessed, amidst the bouts of grief that she had been drowning under during the time. When Abby Griffin was too incapacitated with grief that she had drowned herself in her own work and forgot that she had a daughter for three months, Marcus was the one who made her meals and taught her homework and dropped her off and picked her up from school.

The truth was that Marcus had been more of a parent to her during those three months than Abby had been during her entire childhood and eventual teenage-hood. And Clarke doing the right thing would most likely mean sinking his career; the alternative would be her would be sinking her own career.

So Clarke had let the baseball game that played after her favorite reruns run in the background as she sat in front of her laptop at her coffee table. She Googled the format of drafting an official complaint email to the board. She opened up Thesaurus in another tab. She logged onto Silver Hill employees' log and checked to see whether she got Marcus' middle name correct.

The indicator was just blinking one space away from the correct spelling of Marcus Jordan Kane's name when her doorbell rang, and she had jumped at the sound. To be perfectly honest, after she had keyed in the subject line and the addressee's email, there was a part of her that was so certain that her mother would sense Clarke's moment of righteousness but also betrayal from miles away and show up at her place to give her a good beatdown.

Really, Clarke wouldn't put it past Abby Griffin. That woman, negligent as she might be when Clarke had needed her most, could have been one of the most instinctual people the young woman knew, especially when it came to matters she considered to be verging on misconduct or inappropriate.

She was almost too afraid to look into the peephole, only managing to actually do it when she convinced herself that she was a grown ass woman and she had done worse things than this to disappoint her mother. Things like signing up to be a military doctor and ship off to the other side of the earth for two tours.

Her anxiety was soon replaced by confusion once she saw exactly who her visitor was.

She opened the door and greeted, "Lexa?"

In the next second, her day took a few pinwheels and leaps and probably even went up to space a few times, turning an anxiety-ridden day into one that would easily be engraved in her brain. That was, if this wasn't a dream.

When Lexa drew back, Clarke had to fight back a whimper of protest. But the princess didn't completely pull away. Instead, she only pulled back enough for their breaths to mingle and their eyes to be able to look nowhere but each other. Clarke had never seen those green eyes so up close before and under such lighting; she had to wonder if those flecks were real gold.

Clarke could smell…coke and a hint of McDonald's fries in Lexa's breath, and it was oddly nice. Oh, okay, so this was real. There was no way she could dream so specifically. Lexa did just do that. She did just show up at Clarke's place on a Monday night and kiss her on the lips like that. Wow.

Not to brag, but Clarke had had many kisses in her life. Several hookups, several relationships, all throughout her high school and college career. Her love life had only come to a startling halt when she got on that plane two tours ago. Not that she could complain, because she met the princess who pretty much outshone everyone else who could show up in front of her.

She only had eyes for Lexa Woods, apparently.

Lexa didn't kiss like everybody else. It was steeped in desperation and impatience that were broiled into a kind of passion that boiled everything in Clarke's soul in just a few seconds – and there  _wasn't_ even tongue! It held promise. It held vows. In just a few seconds of attachment, Clarke wasn't only driven to all levels of bliss and some confusion; she could see the realness and primal desire that would haunt the future –  _their_ future.

She could see their future.

She frowned a little.

Lexa, as if picking up on her confusion, smiled a little, nervously. "I  _am_ human."

Despite the lack of context and the abruptness of this whole thing – Gustus was standing a few yards away, pointedly looking away from the intimacy that his ward had caught himself in – Clarke understood what Lexa was saying. She had a faint idea of who was responsible for the veteran's revelation, but there was another time for that.

* * *

Gasps broke through the night air. Hurried breathing mingled with one another. Slick sounds permeated the environment. Momentary giggles and disbelieving laughter occasionally interrupted the occupants on the bed.

These sounds of passion, belonging only to the two women on the bed, indicated the complete ignorance to the outside world, to their completely different statuses as two different people on two different standings on this island. Sweaty and warm and so unbelievably intoxicating – the touches and sounds of passion carried the women through and above and beyond.

To the bottom of the ocean, pitch dark and mysterious and intriguing, and then back up to the shore, clear and warm and sated.

* * *

If anyone asked, yes, Clarke totally fell asleep. She fell asleep and she  _just_ woke up and coincidentally, it was to the unbelievable face of Lexa Woods facing her. In  _her_ bed. With  _her_.  _Naked_. And honestly, Lexa Woods totally  _knew_ what she was doing.

Clarke was, honest to god, so tired. She was exhausted she could snore better than ten pigs. But try as she might, she  _couldn't_ sleep. She closed her eyes, she tried to force herself to sleep, but her subconscious was right there, alerting her to the fact that she was holding the  _second Princess of Polis_ in her arms,  _naked_ and  _sticky._ Oh yeah, she totally just had sex with Lexa Woods and it really wasn't a dream.

So here Clarke was, at four in the morning, one arm slung around the brunette's waist, unable to take her eyes off said brunette, who was actually sleeping quite peacefully, very much the opposite what Clarke would have imagined a sleeping Lexa to be like based on what she had observed of the princess. She could  _viscerally_ feel every inch of their skin touching together, the ghost of Lexa's persistent fingers still lingering between her legs.

Clarke swallowed audibly and clenched her legs tighter around Lexa's thigh in between. Okay, yeah, bad move. That only managed to make it worse.

She couldn't stop staring. She couldn't stop making herself disbelieving and believing again.

Just three nights ago, Lexa had been so adamant to keep herself an arm's length away, determined that she was undeserving of happiness or  _any form_ of non-platonic affection from Clarke or towards Clarke before she had truly healed. And while Clarke wanted, more than anything, to shake the princess to tell her that she didn't care, she had more than enough experience to know that Lexa wouldn't listen – a PTSD patient would never listen until she  _knew_ it herself, and Clarke wasn't in the position to teach her that. But now, Lexa was here.

 _Thank you, Niylah_ , Clarke thought, making a note to deliver a bouquet of carnations to Niylah's office when she was free, though she had a feeling that there wouldn't be such a thing as 'free', if the previous few hours were any indication.

Gingerly, a pale arm slithered gently, a breadth of an inch from floating away, up the length of Lexa's body. Touching waist. Touching the side of breast. Touching shoulder. Touching collarbone. Touching everything Clarke yearned to touch until the pale hand softly settled onto Lexa's cheek, one finger absentmindedly brushing away a strand of stray hair that had fallen over the woman's cheek.

She could not stop staring.

"You're being creepy," Lexa whispered seconds after Clarke noticed her breathing pattern changing.

Clarke fought not to start at the sudden intrusion of her obsession. She chuckled minutely, small and hidden within their spaces. "Creepier than when I've literally seen your innards?" she whispered back.

Lexa released a groan that could be considered loud in this quiet night air, her voice still hoarse from sleep and her chest vibrating against Clarke's. "Clarke, we literally just had sex like…" Lexa drifted off, her eyes opening into slits, staring offhandedly over the blonde's shoulder, then continued, "…five times. Bragging about how you cut me open and saved my life is not sexy."

The doctor had to resist from shuddering at the reminder of exactly how many times they had made each other orgasm. The first two times in the living room – on the kitchen counter and her couch – the other three times right here on this bed. She was going to have to change the sheets tomorrow. Or later. Whatever. Whenever she could stop staring at the veteran.

"Isn't it?"

Lexa shook her head and closed her eyes again, breathing a little heavily. "No," she mumbled.

"But as a doctor, I have to argue that nothing turns our clan on more than blood and life threatening –" Clarke found herself cut off at a finger placed upon her lips.

Having opened her eyes again, Lexa was looking at her with a mixture of disdain and amusement. "Can we talk about something else?"

The room was dim. The only source of even the slightest hint of light was the moonlight that simmered in through the slats of the blinds and the lamp in the living room that she had forgotten to turn off under the slit of the bedroom door.

And yet, something magical happened right in front of her. The magic that was Lexa Woods' eyes. Oh, there had been many instances that Clarke found herself distracted by that very pair of eyes since the first moment she saw them many miles away in Libya. But this was different. This magic came in the form of post coital bliss, the hoods that didn't overcast the very brightness and eagerness arising in Lexa – Clarke swore this was the most magical thing she had ever seen since she saw Harry Potter the first time.

Heat shot up Clarke's spine, gathering with so much intensity at the bottom of Clarke's hips that she felt her brain short circuiting for a moment there. Her thumb still brushed absentmindedly over Lexa's cheek.

"We don't have to talk at all."

That smile. Clarke felt like she would do anything for the smile that stretched over Lexa's face after she had said that. But that feeling was soon replaced by something much hotter and urgent when Lexa rolled her over onto her back and captured her lips while one hand went under the blanket to find the most sensitive part of the blonde's body.

* * *

"Clarke, come help me convince Gus to go home," Lexa called from the front door, clearly exasperated and growing impatient.

The blonde took one look at the bodyguard that visible from the open doorway. Sometimes, one had to wonder how Lexa managed to keep her public prowls a secret at all. Gustus was glowering at her from outside like she had done something wrong, like she had sinned, like she had just defiled his precious charge.

She gulped and offered Lexa a one-shouldered shrug. Look, she knew she promised to do anything that would make Lexa smile and be as peaceful as possible after last night, but she also valued her life. And this was as much distance as she could put between herself and the bodyguard.

Lexa made sure that Clarke saw the exasperated expression before she crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her. This apartment was pretty soundproofed, all things considered. In fact, it was one of the qualities advertised on the leasing ad. It was proving to be true, given that she could hear nothing from the other side of the door.

She went back to making sandwiches and laying out cookies and pouring coffee, prolonging every movement and delaying each action. She didn't want to think about what last night meant. She didn't want to think about what her relationship with Lexa from now on was going to become now in consequence of the events that had transpired earlier. She didn't want to think about the talk that they were going to inevitably have. She didn't want to think about the possibly disappointing words that Lexa was going to say to her.

She just wanted to make sandwiches and lay out cookies and pour coffee.

The tray of sandwiches, cookies, and coffee was placed on the dining table. She was sitting at the dining table and typing out a succinct email to Marcus Kane to tell him that she was taking the day off, not giving him room to deny her this. If he knew any better, he would go ahead and give her a few days off.

There was another draft sitting in her account  _about_ him that she was deliberately ignoring. It could wait another day. Marcus' greed could wait another day.

Lexa came back in once she had sent the email.

"Mission successful?"

"I had to promise him I wouldn't be leaving this apartment for the rest of the day. He'll be back in the afternoon," Lexa informed Clarke, striding over to the kitchen and taking a seat next to Clarke. "Oh, this is good coffee," she praised and went to take more sips.

"How come you have  _one_ bodyguard?"

"Trust me, I told my dad I don't need any."

Clarke's eyes bulged at the thought of Lexa mingling around alone without any protection. "No, I mean, you're the princess. Why is Gustus your  _only_  bodyguard?"

"Oh, I tried to get a detail to relieve him, but he said he doesn't trust anyone else with me. Plus, I'm usually at home, and he lives within the compound, so it's not always that he has to come out with me. I'm lucky his wife doesn't hate me."

"You seem close."

Lexa hummed, plucked a cookie off the plate, and started munching on it. "Well, he did watch me grow up."

"In that case, I wouldn't trust you with anyone else either," Clarke said absentmindedly, plucking her own cookie from the plate while holding a sandwich in her other hand.

"Oh yeah, you think you're in the position to say that?"

The blonde froze. She polished off the cookie and risked a look at the princess, only to be relieved at the sight of the amused smile tugging on the woman's lips, eyes tingling with mischief. She licked her fingertips, unaware of the way Lexa zeroed in on the action and her eyes darkened just a little in effect. She drank a sip of her coffee before shifting sideways on the couch to face Lexa.

"We should talk," she said.

The amusement and mischief didn't go away at all, much to Clarke's surprise. She had learned a lot of things about the woman before her. Things like her unhealthy obsession for late night McDonald's runs. Things like her propensity for baseball caps and flannel shirts and sinful skinny jeans. Things like her PTSD driven symptoms. Things like her total dislike for talking about anything related to her.

The doctor had expected Lexa to just…shut down or avoid talking about this at all, to be perfectly honest. Last night had been…a lot. Of fun. Of pleasure. Of forgetting. But this morning, she had woken up in Lexa's arms after finally getting to sleep for a couple hours, and suddenly Lexa's propensity to sequester a conversation away from her came back into her mind; she had to prepare herself for the high possibility that the brunette would even try to run away as soon as possible.

She was certain that she wouldn't feel too good about it, probably even offended. But she also remembered that while Lexa liked to project this tough and come-what-may image to the public, Clarke had seen her at her most vulnerable – haunted by her experiences overseas in the middle of a park.

If Lexa was going to run away, then Clarke would make herself to keep that promise that she had made Lexa only a few days ago, which was that she wasn't going to go anywhere and Lexa was totally allowed to take all the time she needed.

"Okay."

Clarke blinked. "Wait, really?"

Lexa narrowed her eyes. "Did you not want to talk?"

"No, no, I do…want to talk." The brunette tilted her head. "I just – you usually avoid…talking about yourself."

Confusion remained for the next few seconds before realization came along. Lexa made a soft noise of understanding as a look of guilt clouded over her face. She shifted closer to Clarke on the couch and hesitantly extended one hand towards Clarke, hovering an inch over the pale hand casually placed over her thigh. Clarke accepted the hand by upturning her hand and locking their fingers together.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm worse with my family," Lexa offered with a sheepish smile, aware that it wasn't much of an excuse.

Clarke had to laugh at that. And there was that tug in her torso again, urging her to not resist those lips. And usually, she would resist that tug – she was almost starting to resist it when she remembered that she didn't have to  _anymore_.

Rising to her knees, her lips stretched into a small smirk when Lexa looked up at her with concern, she leaned forward and made sure to be slow and detailed as her mouth went over Lexa's. She could do this now. She could just make a slight move and this thing would happen. This totally addictive kiss that had been the beginning of her slutty dreams since she saw Lexa again that night in the park.

Once she returned to where she had been sitting, Lexa looked dazed and lost. Clarke waited until she cleared her throat multiple times and blinked more.

"Wow, if that's how you talk, I'm really not opposed," the princess commented.

Clarke snorted and squeezed the woman's hand. "What does this mean?" she asked pensively.

"I told you I  _am_ human," Lexa began. "And that means I'm flawed and imperfect. Except maybe I'm more damaged than most." Lexa shook her head when Clarke opened her mouth to speak. "I  _am_ , Clarke. And I think I always will be." She sighed regrettably and lifted Clarke's hand to kiss the back of it. "Since I came back, I've been distancing myself from everyone. I don't tell my family things. I don't meet my friends. I don't respond to my soldiers' letters. This thing has been driving me away from people. Even you, the woman I've wanted since the moment she called me the most iconic princess even after having seen my innards, as you so elegantly put it." Clarke rolled her eyes at the reminder. "Yesterday, I was reminded that if I let this thing control me the way that it has been doing the past half a year, I wouldn't have much of a life. I wouldn't have anything to remind me that I'm just as much a human as anyone else."

Okay, yep, Clarke was definitely delivering those flowers.

The princess smiled gingerly at Clarke, uncertain and expectant. "So I guess…I'm just laying down my cards here with you, Dr. Clarke Griffin. This –" She lifted their clasped hands in the air "– will be whatever you want it to be. I just…want you."

Well, okay, how could Clarke ever resist that? She released a relenting chuckle, shaking her head at her own weakness. If Raven and Octavia were here, they wouldn't let this go. They would let this hang over her head forever. Then again, not that she would mind. She had never felt like this before – so vulnerable and so  _lit up_ , warm all over, anticipatory but also uncertain of what was to come.

She rose up to her knees again, but instead of just leaning over this time, she crawled across the small space on the couch to find her place across Lexa's lap, her thighs bracketing the princess' narrow hips and her arms slung around the princess' neck. Lexa happily accepted her intrusion, her arms reaffirming Clarke's position by enclosing around her waist and pulling her closer.

"I don't understand what this means, Clarke."

The blonde  _loved_ the way Lexa spoke her name. She lowered her head to kiss Lexa. "Is that enough of an answer for you?"

"I do have to warn you that it's not going to be easy." Lexa swallowed and rested her forehead against Clarke's jaw. "I can't – we can't do normal couple things. I would very much like to bring you to miniature golf one day, but that can only happen if I'm under heavy disguise or we book out the entire place."

"Miniature golf?"

Lexa chuckled, deep and resonant as her voice was muffled by Clarke's shoulder. "I just mean…" She was quiet for a long period of time, then she drew back to fix her eyes on Clarke again. "You are very important to me, Clarke."

There were a lot of things left unsaid at the end of that sentence, but the blonde understood all of them. She had considered the possibilities and outcomes after getting confirmation that this was not just a one-sided thing. She saw the media coverage of Anya Woods and Roan Queen's relationship after their sudden announcement; she wasn't exactly blind to the implications of dating a royalty.

Plus, Lexa had been burned before by the Costia incident. Deep down, Clarke wanted to find out where that woman lived just so she could drop by and give her a nice dressing down for even daring to treat Lexa like she had. There was no doubt that part of the reason Lexa had been so hesitant to be upfront with her was because she was scared of a repeat incident.

Clarke couldn't promise many things about their future. But there were things she was sure about: one being that she wanted Lexa more than she wanted anything in the world, and the other being that she would never become another Costia to Lexa.

"We'll figure it out," she reassured. "We'll figure it out."

Lexa smiled and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, we will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was so soft that i hate myself for it
> 
> meanwhile, you can find me on twitter @ [embettah](https://twitter.com/embettah) or you can [LOVE ME](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me) please love me


	12. fortis in arduis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while i'm still looking for a job and am currently still a useless person, i figured i could update this fic asap. in any case, wish me luck on finally getting an income, yeah?
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_fortis in arduis: strong in difficulties_

* * *

 

"Alexandria Woods, I swear to god –" Her mother cut herself off as she strode into Lexa's office, hauled her up from her chair behind the desk, and pulled her into a tight hug. "What is it with you and not coming home? And Gus wasn't with even with you!" Storme whisper-shrieked into Lexa's ear.

The younger woman blinked at the sudden tackle. If this had occurred before Niylah, before Clarke, she would have flipped her mother on her back and had her foot on the queen's neck before the woman could even utter a word. But now, all she had to do was take two deep breaths and smell her mother's shampoo and remember that there was an exit and it was right there.

Lexa hugged her mother back and patted her back in reassurance. "I texted Lincoln."

Storme, thankfully, released her daughter from her motherly grasp. The princess might have been healing, but it was a slow process. Her susceptibility to close contacts only extended so far; the only person she could handle prolonged full body contact with was…well, Lexa was certain that she could try for a bit longer when she and Clarke met again.

The queen groaned in complaint as she rolled her eyes. "Your brother is barely home now. He's always out too but at least he comes home!" she said pointedly, not letting go Lexa's arms.

Lexa had a vague idea as to  _why_ Lincoln was barely home. It seemed they held each other's secrets. She couldn't help but inwardly rejoice at the idea of Anya being so out of the loop  _for once_. Well, if he was withholding her secret as he had promised, she could do the same.

"I texted Anya too."

"Your sister has a wedding to prepare for. And she has many more matters to attend to, being the first in line and all that. I only knew you'd be absent from dinner last night because Gus called his wife and Penelope came over to inform us! And then he came back this morning without you!" Storme complained, exasperation apparent in her tone and tight eyes. "Honestly, since when did your father and I raise such irresponsible children?"

"Hey, I'm responsible!"

"You told us about becoming a soldier  _after_ you signed up for the army," her mother deadpanned.

Lexa opened her mouth but found no words to properly retort. Well, the woman had been won numerous international debate championships, among others, before she became Queen Storme the First – Anya had been the only child to inherit their mother's smart mouth.

"Okay, fair," she deflated.

Her mother released a noise of knowingness and satisfaction before she looped their arms together. And before Lexa knew it, her mother had handed her the cane and they were walking out of her office together and walking down the hall, offering occasional nods to the passing by staff.

Lexa had to momentarily mourn at the thought of having to return to her mountain of work tomorrow morning. That was the price of not bothering with work for two days. Then again, it was worth it, considering how she had spent her last two days. She would happily face piles of paperwork if it meant 48 uninterrupted hours with Clarke Griffin.

"So where were you?"

"I had business," Lexa evaded.

"A business that requires you to stay out all night?"

"It was last minute."

"Should I be worried?"

"I'm fine, Mom."

"The last time you did something last minute, you shipped off to Afghanistan for your first tour."

Okay, yeah, her mother was never going to let that go. To any stranger, it would sound like the woman was holding a grudge against her daughter – a grudge that lasted a little more than six years. But it wasn't; it was far from a grudge.

No parent would like for their children to go off to a warzone for  _years_ , not knowing how they were holding up and always on the edge, scared of receiving unfavorable news in the form of uniformed soldiers knocking on your door with their hats removed. Any parent would have been hysterical, biting off their nails,  _emoting_.

But for six years, Queen Storme had had to remain composed, be the elegant matriarch of the country,  _proud_ that her daughter was one of the many brave soldiers fighting for this country. Inside, the daily reminder that Lexa wasn't home, was off somewhere in a war-torn country, sleeping next to lethal weapons and operating said weapons, facing off insurgents and terrorists. The rulers of this country had to deal with the thought that their  _child_  was risking her life every day, and it was highly likely that they would never see her again – and they were  _not_ allowed to show it.

Lexa could still remember the looks on her parents' faces after she had woken up from the long surgery upon landing back in her homeland. She could count with two hands how many times she had seen them so vulnerable and transparent with their emotions – that was one of those times. Her mother unabashedly broke into hysterical tears when she saw Lexa open her eyes; her father had tears clinging to the edges of his eyes, holding onto his wife and clasping his daughter's hand like a lifeline.

She pulled the two of them to a sharp stop, right in front of a rather large painting of her great grandmother. Ignoring the piercing gaze of the woman that her father had once described as the most rigid human being he had ever countered, she patted her mother's hand looped through her elbow and offered a smile that was as reassuring as possible.

"I'm retired, Mom."

Storme locked onto Lexa's eyes, as discerning as ever. "But you want to, don't you?" she whispered, her voice pained and low. "You want to go back."

Those words sounded like a lightning strike, terrifying and loud and so much like a gunshot. Lexa had to stop herself from jumping in place. Instead, she stood there, frozen and entirely wanting to be anywhere but here right now.

She would have said yes one month ago. That she wanted to go back to the hell that she had come back from – at least the gunshots were real; at least when she woke up in cold sweat, she wasn't the only one; at least when she started awake from her sleep, there were real combatants attacking outside their doorstep; at least she would have a  _reason_  for her current state of messed up fucking state of mind.

One month ago, she couldn't talk to anyone, or she couldn't  _bring herself_ to talk to anyone. It was her burden to bear alone. Until one night one month ago, she ran into the doctor who literally kept her life from hanging on a thread. And everything changed. Sure, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Nightmares were still there, but she could sleep through them now. She was swimming regularly. She met a  _girl_ , a fantastic and wonderful and fabulous girl.

"No," she told Storme. Her sister was getting married. Her brother was, possibly, hopefully, dreadfully, falling in love. Her parents were right there, still alive and still the best models of love in Lexa's life. Clarke was a few miles away, doing her doctor things while also taking time away to text Lexa in intervals. And they were all here for Lexa, unwavering in their care and support. "I don't want to be anywhere but here, Mom."

Her mother inhaled, shivering and weak. "You promise?"

Lexa released their arms from one another and wrapped hers around her mother's shoulder. It was awkward, given that the older woman was taller than her – whoever said that children would always be taller than their mothers were lying – but she tried anyway. And she pressed a kiss to Storme's temple.

For someone who had never been a very tactile person, much less so after her honorable discharge, this was as much of a promise as the Woods matriarch could get from her beloved daughter.

* * *

The sun was already climbing down the horizon, emitting an orange glow that spanned over the edges of buildings and covering the meager humans with its power for a few more minutes until it could serve them again in twelve hours. She had never been fond of orange as a color, but she supposed it was only because she considered a color so majestic that it only fit the sun.

Lexa would love to capture this moment forever, be it via photograph or drawing. The gigantic and incredibly hot star hovering over the hospital building, almost threatening in its presence, casting the most majestic glow over its expanse, while Clarke walked out of the building, hair pulled up into a ponytail, dressed in a blue button down shirt with four buttons undone and a pair of sweatpants.

Lexa wanted to look at this forever.

But alas, the veteran had not a single artistic bone in her body. She was good with submachine guns and knives and policy papers, but asking her to do anything  _artsy_ at all would be a bad call. Hell, she once had a tutor who resigned because her handwriting was too chicken scratch for him to decipher.

Men, so damn weak.

"You're getting very brave these days," Clarke commented, trying to sound tough but failing as her smile widened.

The brunette hummed and returned with her own smile. "I don't know. I guess sleeping with a pretty blonde doctor does that to me."

Clarke's eye twitched a little. She lifted her hand to tug the bill of Lexa's cap higher for better access as she leaned forward to capture Lexa's very prepared lips. They remained there for several prolonged seconds, with Lexa's back leaning against a wall and Clarke leaning into her – just two girls kissing each other outside of a hospital, no big deal, not like one of them was the princess of the country or something.

One of the brunette's hands curled softly behind the doctor's head, and the other held firmly onto Clarke's hip. She slotted one knee between Clarke's legs and was not ashamed in her firmness to place it  _exactly_ where she knew would elicit the most virile response from her companion. Just as anticipated, Clarke jolted slightly and drew back, panting, pupils blown, and a chastising frown at the bridge of her nose.

"I'm not sure the people will do well to their princess conducting public indecency," she managed between gulps of desperate air. Still, her hands never left Lexa's waist and she didn't exactly step back to get away from Lexa's thigh. The princess counted that as a win. "You're doing this on purpose."

Lexa glanced shortly at the lips she already missed terribly and then back up at the eyes that she missed equally. "Am I?"

Clarke scoffed and reached up to help readjust Lexa's cap, then she untangled herself from the mess of limbs that Lexa had deliberately dragged her into. Note that the brunette definitely  _did not_ whine in complaint at the loss of contact, and it definitely did not get cut short when Clarke bravely slid their hands together and their fingers locked together.

Her heart beat a wild pang against her chest at the weirdly comfortably intimate contact and she looked down at their joined fingers – pale against tan and one more riddled with calluses than the other. She looked up at Clarke again, and found herself staring at an unfamiliar doubtful look on Clarke's face.

Lexa smiled and squeezed her hand before tucking their hands into her jacket pocket. Then they started walking out of the perimeters of the hospital, where Gustus was dutifully waiting, puffing on his cigarette. Lexa paused in her steps and stared at him as he nonchalantly pushed away from the streetlight he was leaning against, still smoking.

"How many sticks have you had today?" she questioned.

Gus raised his brows and had the audacity to smirk as he pointedly looked at Lexa and Clarke's hands before looking back up at her.

She felt her mouth open as the disbelief started to take hold. Next to her, Clarke snorted and quickly hid away her mirth by covering her own mouth, willfully tilting into Lexa's weight as she hid her face from the giant bodyguard. Lexa threw the doctor a look that translated her incredulity at the blonde's obvious betrayal.

Narrowing her eyes at her bodyguard, she looked at him in a way that told him they would be having a discussion when they were alone.

"Stop laughing," she chastised Clarke as they started walking again.

Clarke, instead of obeying – because no one listened to Lexa anymore these days, apparently – just snorted louder. "I'm sorry. I just can't believe you got blackmailed by your bodyguard."

"It wasn't – that wasn't blackmail!" Lexa exclaimed, sending a dirty glance at Gustus behind them.

Clarke hummed. "It looked like blackmail to me."

Lexa huffed. "To blackmail a princess is treasonous."

"Doesn't change the fact that he did, in fact, blackmail you."

Lexa held on tighter to Clarke's hand in her jacket pocket. She nudged into Clarke's shoulder and pouted. "This is wrong on so many levels. Where is the respect?"

"Like I said, I've seen your innards."

"Still not sexy."

* * *

One of her legs was just inserted into the pair of jeans that had been resolutely abandoned at the apartment door when Clarke finally stirred from her slumber. The edges of Lexa's lips extended at the sight, but she didn't pause in zipping up her jeans and looking around the room to look for her bra.

Clarke released a long moan as she stretched in her bed, the blanket falling down below her chest at her movement. Hoarse and bare and so fucking sexy – Lexa wanted very much to strip down again and pounce on the blonde, but the clock on the bedside table glowed with the numbers to indicate the time, reminding Lexa of the secrecy of this relationship and her parents were probably keeping watch for her return.

"Oh," Clarke voiced as soon as she was conscious enough to comprehend what Lexa was up to. "Wow, were you planning to just sneak out like that?" It came out meant as a tongue in cheek comment, but Lexa, who had become so attuned to Clarke's mannerisms, could hear the hint of insecurity.

She clipped on her bra and picked up her discarded flannel shirt from the floor, smiling at Clarke while simultaneously enjoying the way the full scope of the moonlight, unhindered by the blinds, cast over the blonde. Truly, Lexa wasn't sure she had ever seen anything so beautiful. Once again, she would really love to have some kind of artful bone in her body.

"You were out like a light," she said as she started to button up her shirt.

"And?"

"I was going to leave you a note."

"A note, huh?"

"Stop it," she admonished as she started tucking her shirt into her jeans. "You  _know_ it's not like that."

"Sorry," Clarke muttered, pouting a little. She had pulled herself to sit against the headboard of her bed, the blanket pulled up to her chest. Lexa stood across the room, just a few feet away from the foot of the bed, and let the woman take her in. "Usually, I'm the one sneaking out at night."

Lexa narrowed her eyes, feeling the unpleasant flare of jealousy flaring up in her chest. "Usually, huh?"

Clarke grinned. "Was that what I sounded like?"

"What?"

"All…jealous."

"I wasn't jealous."

"Uh huh." Clarke took one long look at Lexa and hummed appreciatively. "Have I ever told you that you are  _very_ pleasing to the eyes?"

"Well, you did say something to that effect the first time we saw each other again at the park," Lexa remarked mischievously, smirking.

"Okay, get out." Clarke emphasized her point by flinging a point in Lexa's direction, though it bounced against the chest a few feet away and bounced back onto the carpet.

"Awful aim, Dr. Griffin."

She took note of the framed letter sitting on the mantel over the chest, moving over to pick it up and have a closer observation. She stared at her own penmanship, still stark and blue over the paper that she had requested from one of the entourage that her brother had brought along that day.

At that point in her military career, Lexa had already begun to get nightmares. Hauntings from her dead colleagues. Sleeping pills helped, but those things made her overslept more times than she deserved. The habit of taking walks at night to stay awake definitely had not only started when she came back to Polis. It wasn't a big deal, that habit; her comrades had been doing the same thing. The base was always swarming with quiet soldiers shaking from their own ghosts at night.

That night was probably the only night she could actually  _drift_ off to sleep without meaning to, and without any nightmares to boot. She could easily attribute that to the morphine, but she was quite certain that Clarke's presence played a huge role in that. And then she had been awoken rather rudely by her brother and his entourage of medical and military officers marching in, ready to take her home regardless of her protests.

She was lucky that they even let her delay their departure by writing that letter and making sure that the boss at the hospital would deliver it to Clarke. Lexa would have loved to get to see Clarke again before she left – she made that pretty clear in the letter – but hey, the memories of the doctor would suffice for now.

"You have a way with words," Clarke commented.

When Lexa turned around, she was already dressed in a loose shirt she dug up somewhere with a pair of panties. She sighed in disappointment. Well, good thing too, since she definitely would never leave if Clarke had gotten out of bed naked. She placed the letter back where it belonged and picked up her cap from the floor, tugging in onto her head.

"I have to go."

Clarke nodded. "Be safe."

Once she was close enough, Lexa surreptitiously reached out, curled her arm around Clarke's waist, and pulled their bodies close together. The blonde heaved a surprised yelp that was so low in her throat that goosebumps rose over Lexa's skin.

She cradled Clarke's cheek with a hand and went in for a long and lasting kiss. The same kiss that had her toes curling and the bumps on her skin more visible. She made sure to swipe her tongue over Clarke's lower lip and elicit a dirty moan from the blonde before drawing back with a satisfied smile but still hungry lips.

"Consider that my note," she cheekily said.

Clarke huffed and groaned at the same time. "You are the most unfair person on the face of the earth."

"As if," she said, retreating out the bedroom door as she walked backwards. "You're the unfair one with that face."

Lexa walked out of the apartment with Clarke's surprised laughter ringing in her ears.

* * *

The coffee this morning was decent. Good, even. Then again, for someone who had spent a little more than six years drinking bitter dredges from a thermos, she couldn't complain. She'd take any coffee over that which she had to drink in the army.

Rachel was waiting outside the office while she was ruminating on bad coffee and heading over from a hearty breakfast with her family. Yes, she had made a point to finally start joining them for breakfast and get the day going. Niylah had rightfully pointed out that ditching her family during breakfast wasn't the best idea if she was trying to actively rebuild their bond. So she started to join her family after her swimming session instead of slinking away to have her own breakfast in her office.

It was great advice. She enjoyed getting to sit at the table and engage with her family without talking about work. Getting to see their grumpy faces in the morning and tease them about it. Sharing secret looks with different members whenever they thought of an inside joke. That was probably also why the coffee tasted good this morning.

However, unlike the usual peppy Rachel that often had Lexa wondering whether she made the right choice in hiring the girl, this Rachel seemed jumpy and maybe even scared, dare Lexa observed.

Lexa slowed down and narrowed her eyes at her secretary, suspicious and worried at the same time. She leaned on her cane. "Is everything okay?"

"Good morning, Your Highness."

Even that came out squeaky and completely out of character. This had Lexa narrowing her eyes into slits. "Yes, good morning. Is everything okay?"

Rachel bit her lower lip for a moment, eyes flitting about, landing on the empty armor at the opposite wall, then back at her superior. "I just want to say that I followed your instructions and told him everything you said. Verbatim. As you told me to." She swallowed and shook her head. "So it's not my fault, Your Highness."

"What isn't your fault, Rachel?"

The young girl sighed and handed over the newspaper tucked under her arm. Lexa didn't exactly have to search to find what exactly Rachel was talking about.

There she was – a photo of her in fatigues with a submachine gun slung over her shoulder, her hair pulled up into a tight bun as per regulation, leaning over a strategy table along with the other soldiers in her unit. She recalled this very moment very clearly. It was just a month after she made Commander, and they were preparing to invade an insurgent base to the north of their base.

It was the first time she ever had to take control of an op and ensure its success. Safe to say that she was appropriately nervous for the op. The good thing was that it was carried out successfully – they managed to take out the insurgent group without hurting the civilians. In fact, the next morning, she and a few other men from her unit had joined the kids in a game of soccer.

But that wasn't the point of this article. Somehow, just by seeing that photo in large print, almost taking over two thirds of the page, she already knew who made this happen. And not even the memories of this op could assuage her anger as she took in the headline.

_Princess Lexa Considering a Visit to Libya for Service Day_

As she read the article, her fingers tightened over the edge of the paper. Her brain scanned the incorrect words, the false conjecture, the fake claims, and the quotes that she didn't even remember speaking, all printed out neatly and nicely on the first page of – she glanced up –  _Polis Sentinel_.

Once she had read the last word of the article, she snapped it down and sent a glare at her secretary, who cowered away. To save Rachel the fear, she redirected her glare towards the empty armor. Every bit of her wanted to swing her cane at the thing and topple it over. But that would be pointless – and it wouldn't do her condition any good.

As the two of them stood there, Lexa considered her options – the best way to navigate this mess without giving into a public questioning or create chaos for the relationship between the monarchy and the government. She might be the princess, but she had learned enough about this country's governance to understand that her role in the government only went so far. If she wasn't the monarch, she had no say, basically.

Well, she wasn't  _supposed_ to have a say.

She straightened at that, glanced down at that increasingly irritating photo again, and started marching down the hallway, her limp more prominent in her rush. Regardless, she had to fix this. She had to find the man who had the power to fix this.

After all, she had promised her mother that she wasn't going back. And Lexa had lived her whole life keeping her word. A few lies told by the  _irresponsible_ Minister of Defense Department were not going to change that.

One thing for sure: she was going to need  _barrels_ of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what? there has to be drama at some point
> 
> also, like i said, i'm currently looking for a job and going for interviews. in the meantime, if you guys feel like it, you can [support this very poor jobless fresh grad via this link](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me) :)


	13. coniunctis viribus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's soft. i'm soft. one thing at a time.
> 
> now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

_coniunctis viribus_ :  _with connected strength_

* * *

 

A full eight hours of sleep. Imagine that. Eight hours uninterrupted. Eyes closing and the mind drifting off to unconsciousness and  _staying_ there. Phone silent. Pager not going off. Blanket protective and comforting. Nothing but rest.

How ironic that she could only dream of sleep when dreams should only occur while sleeping, Clarke bemoaned inwardly as she seeped on her coffee and padded down the lobby to the elevator bank. She could have slept, though. The last two days had been…invigorating, to say the least. She had never realized sex could be so vitalizing to the soul until Lexa showed up at her door and kissed the living sense out of her.

It was that exact revitalization that pushed Clarke to finally finish up the email that she had deliberately left sitting in her draft for the last two days; the excuse being that Lexa was right there and honestly, there was no way Clarke could ever resist those lips and those eyes and those everything. And with just a push of a button, Clarke had sent herself down a spiral of anxiety and wakefulness, resulting in her sleeplessness for the whole night.

Clarke was fully aware that she had sent her email after working hours, therefore, no one at the office would be reading her email until this morning. But she couldn't help it anyway, because what if someone just felt like checking the feedback email? What if it was the chairman of the council? What if they decided to reach out to her at one in the morning?

What if they were doing it  _right now_?

Her hand jerked a little that the dark liquid almost sloshed over the edge of her paper cup. After having pressed the button, she elected to drain the whole cup to avoid any possible sloshes. Her hands were very important, especially in her line of work and her recently undried sex life.

She had just tossed the cup and barely felt the caffeine hitting her brain when a pair of sneakers ran up to her and skidded to a halt just a few inches away. She looked to her left and frowned at Raven's wide eyes and heavy breathing.

"What's wrong with you?" she mumbled, still not feeling the coffee yet.

"Did you know?"

"Did I know what?"

"The princess."

"What about Lexa?"

One of the elevators dinged and opened its doors. She went inside, Raven close on her heels. She was still fidgeting about whether she wanted to go to her floor and risk running into Marcus Kane when, suddenly, a phone was forced into her vision. Right up to her face. Like so close that her nose was almost touching the screen and her eyes could barely make out the screen.

"Jesus, you are so rude," she complained as she smacked Raven's hand away.

" _Look_!"

Clarke threw her best friend a dirty look before obeying. Her breath shortstopped and pulled into her lungs that she actually could not breathe for like two seconds as she read the headline. Instead of pressing a button, her hand reached out to pull the knob that would stop the elevator all together.

* * *

It was at hour five of her shift that it all finally caught up to her. She was okay being nervous about things – Clarke Griffin was a good multitasker, Abby Griffin had made sure of that; she was capable of worrying about multiple things while making sure that her patients acquired the best care possible.

But when  _two_ things were very big things; she discovered that she didn't have the mental capacity to think about both while also suturing up a kid's ass because he sliced himself on the kitchen knife. She blinked away her thoughts and finished up the suture, making sure to smile at the kid before slinking away and finding the nearest emergency exit to hide at the stairs.

No one from the Council had reached out to her yet – she knew, because she did not turn off the ringer on her phone and she had been religiously checking her emails and call logs every five minutes. That, in turn, also made her aware of the fact that  _Lexa_ also hadn't reached out to her, and it had been  _five_ hours since she saw the news.

Not only that. There were no press conferences. No replies to press enquiries. Neither confirmation nor denial. The palace was essentially silent about the whole thing.

In the elevator, Clarke had to stare at the headline for close to fifteen minutes, completely quiet and feeling almost as if she had lost the ability to understand the English language. She  _could_  read the headline, but what she could not do was  _understand_ what it was supposed to tell her. And then she had returned Raven her phone, punched the knob back in, and fled the hell out of the car before Raven could pursue her further.

For the last five hours, she did four things in rotation: treating patients, checking her emails, thinking about the haunting headline, and avoiding Raven and Octavia. Hour five was the breaking point, and here she was.

How ironic, when just two days ago, she was having the best sex of her life and wondering if she would ever be happier than realizing that the princess was sleeping peacefully next to her. Now, she was worrying about her job, whether she had ruined a man's career, and whether she would still have sex.

Something vibrated in her coat pocket and she literally jumped and almost tumbled down the stairs, only catching herself by holding on to the railing. She fumbled in her pocket and produced the vibrating object, unsure of whether she should be relieved that it was her phone and not her pager.

Unknown number.

"Oh shit," she muttered. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon. Am I speaking to Dr. Clarke Griffin?"

She gulped. "Yes, this is she."

"Hello, Dr. Griffin. My name's Rachel Phang. I am Princess Lexa's secretary." Clarke's heart leaped into her throat; maybe falling down the stairs wasn't such a bad idea. "Her Royal Highness is indisposed at the moment. However, she has instructed me to contact you and tell you to not, and I quote, 'listen to anything the Sentinel says. It's rubbish.'"

Okay, thank god she didn't fall down the stairs. Clarke pulled herself back more so she could lean against the door, effectively blocking anyone from entering. Let's just hope that no one set off any fire alarms during this phone call.

"She has also asked me to inquire whether she could call or meet you tonight. Whenever and wherever you prefer," Rachel continued.

"Right, I –" Clarke gulped again. Her throat had gone impossibly dry at hearing the voice of a girl who worked at the  _palace_. Sure, she was sleeping with a woman who was  _born_ in the hospital, but this was a pretty big deal. This actually made everything seemed…realer. "I have 36-hour shift today," she proclaimed, cursing at herself for picking up the shift in the first place.

"Oh, okay. Of course. I'll just tell the princess that and see if –"

"Can she come to the hospital?"

There was a pause. "Perhaps the hospital isn't such a good idea, given the publicity recent news have garnered her."

Clarke closed her eyes. "I – okay. Maybe just ask her that and see what she says. If not, then she can call me. Anytime. I'll just – my phone will be with me the whole time. Tonight. Whenever she want. Whether she comes or not."

When had she become so pathetic? Since her first boyfriend in high school, she had never gone so far as to  _desperately_ sit by the phone and wait for a call; it  _wasn't_ necessary, because they  _always_ came to her. She was a catch, and they knew that.

God, of course it would take a fucking princess to drive her back down this road. This desperate, foolish, and kind of pathetic road, where she was just  _waiting_ for a pretty girl to call her or text her or  _something_. Her head was a mess. Her heart had gone so haywire she was thinking of getting Wells to perform a cardiac checkup just to be safe.

"Certainly. I will inform the princess right away. Have a good day, Dr. Griffin." The call was cut off instantly.

The doctor lowered the phone slowly and looked at the blank screen.

"Yeah, fat chance, Rachel."

* * *

Just because things were hanging on a thread did not mean she could not do her job. Somehow, in a weird way, that call had managed to calm her enough to let her continue to do her job without the sense of disruption from earlier. It wasn't even Lexa, but the fact that she had found even a minute to tell her secretary to call her told her something; told her that she was important; told her that Lexa  _saw_ her and  _remembered_ her.

At hour sixteen, a patient came rolling in that required ortho, cardio, and trauma in the same OR. But as she scrubbed in, she didn't forget to instruct her resident to hold on to her phone and pick up Lexa's call, if it ever came in. The other two surgeons had looked at her weirdly, because it was against some unwritten protocol to never allow distractions such as a phone in the OR – she had chosen to ignore them.

Whatever, Clarke Griffin was going to  _ace_ this multitasking bullshit.

"Dr. Griffin, an Alex is on the phone for you."

She was elbows deep in the patient's abdomen. She nodded and allowed the resident to place the phone to her ear.

"You have a  _secretary_?" she said first thing.

"I'd be dead without her."

"No, you'd be dead without me."

Lexa chuckled. And odd as it may, that sounded good. "Where are you?"

Clarke lifted her gaze to find Wells' eyeing her weirdly. She raised her brows in a challenging manner before saying, "Never mind that. What the hell was that?"

Lexa sighed into the phone, so loudly that Clarke could practically feel it in her ear. " _That_ was a dirty and political move pulled by the most useless Defense Minister this country has ever had. I've been up to my eyeballs trying to talk to my parents about fixing this farce. Where are you?"

Pausing for a moment, the doctor glanced at the vitals monitor and nodded to herself, continuing her work. "Wait, Thelonious Jaha? My mother likes him." This time,  _both_ Wells and Murphy looked up from their work to stare at her momentarily. Clarke waved them away.

"Maybe I should educate your mother on how a minister is  _supposed_ to function before she likes another useless one," Lexa grumbled. "Where are you?"

"Okay, so are you leaving?" Clarke asked the most important question.

"Seriously, where the hell are you? I'm literally sitting inside the lobby of your hospital and I'd really like it if you could find a place for me to hide before someone figures out who I am."

"Wait, what?"

"You told me to meet you at the hospital."

"Oh my god." Clarke stopped working and raised her bloody hands in the air as she ran the words through her head, staring blankly at Wells' bloody chest. She glanced at him in panic, a look he returned cluelessly. "Oh shit. Okay. Just – hold on. Give me a minute. Fuck. Hold on." She pulled away from the phone and looked to her resident. "Call Raven. Or Octavia. Whoever's still in the hospital. Call her now.  _Call_!"

While the resident dialed, she placed her hands back into the cavity of the patient whose life three surgeons were saving.

"Wanna fill us in on what that was about?"

Clarke turned to Murphy, who literally just opened a skull flap and was working on an actual brain. Working synapses and nerves. Getting a patient's brain back to full function. She turned to Wells, who literally had a heart on bypass so he could ensure that it wouldn't be under too much stress, who was renewing bags of blood every fifteen minutes, who was literally holding a heart in his big dark hands. She glanced back down at her hands, removing remnants of glasses and suturing wounds as she went.

Unable to help herself, she heaved a chuckle. Her life had become so fucking wild since she met a princess at the park.

* * *

The feeling was so hard to explain – the moment she opened the door, walked in, and found Lexa sitting on the very cot that she had so often occupied during these late hours after long surgeries. There were no words to explain it, but the room did not seem so dark and the exhaustion did not feel so heavy and the anxiety did not feel so constricting.

She saw Lexa and she wanted to float. Clarke was so fucking done for, for this very woman who hadn't even the  _slightest_ idea of what she did to the blonde just by being there. She closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and breathed for a few seconds, unable to resist from smiling at Lexa, who was smiling back at her, albeit gingerly.

"So," Lexa started as she stood up and stuck her hands in her back pockets. "How was your day?"

Clarke stared, and then she heaved a chuckle, which elicited a responding chuckle from the princess. She pushed away from the door, one hand reaching behind to lock it, and strode the short distance towards Lexa so she could sling her arms around the woman's neck and pull her close. Visibly surprised, Lexa still did not hesitate to respond by encasing Clarke to her around the waist.

In grade five, when the Griffin family had been intact and the house by the cul-de-sac used to be filled with daily bouts of laughter, Jake Griffin had once saved Clarke from drowning in their backyard pool. For some reason, the float had been punctured, and the little girl had yet to grasp the technicalities of using her arms and legs to keep herself afloat. She hadn't even sunk really low until her father had come rushing out, leaped into the pool, and saved his daughter from drowning to death.

But she knew how it felt like to sink. It was horrible. Everything was blurry and her eyes stung; she hadn't gone into the deep end of a water body since then.

But she sank right into Lexa's arms, right under her embrace, down through the depths of everything warm and sweet. She had hugged many people throughout her twenty-seven years of life, and yet this one – this was the hug of strong arms and confident affirmations, capable of telling the target who they were, body, brain, and soul. This was a breathing duvet.

Before she knew it, Clarke released a low hum into the material of Lexa's silk shirt. Comfortable and unwilling to let go. The brunette didn't complain. She hummed in return and just tightened her arms, as if she knew just how protected Clarke felt under this trance.

"Yeah," Lexa sighed. "Me too."

Around them were…plates. Plates of government and press and careers and superiors and close family friends. Plates and plates that had gathered over a whole day of lack of communications, anxiety, and the inability to see the future. They were unsmashable. There was no pushing these plates aside to hide them from grandmother.

For now, though, they could have these plates all around them. And they could stay where they were. Just for a little while.

* * *

"Wait, so you  _are_ going back?"

"I'm not going back."

"You said you're going."

"For a trip."

The moon had long since made her appearance and hung up there for all to see, illuminating the path for the lost as best she could, alerting people of their needs for rest and some of their times to start working, watching over everyone.

Throughout the entire day, time had been so lost on Clarke, so lost in her thoughts of probably ruining man's career and her own career and whether or not she would even have a career by the end of the day. And she had been so surprised, once extracted from Lexa's embrace, to see that it had gone dark and the on-call room was unlit.

Lexa was sitting on the bed, while Clarke had pulled a chair over to sit in front of her, their hands tangled together and firmly on top of Clarke's lap. There was no way she was going another minute without some sort of contact unless absolutely necessary.

She tilted her head at Lexa's statement, seemingly casual and non-impactful. Looking away from the brunette, she wondered if they had gone far enough in their relationship to say the stuff she was thinking, or whether she should leave it up to Niylah, the actual professional.

Though Clarke might have taken two psychology electives in college, those were just the basic stuff – there was a reason she had referred Lexa to Niylah instead of taking it on herself. She took an oath to do no harm.

"What?"

Clarke looked back to Lexa, who had ducked her head to get a good look of her expression. She shook her head with a strained smile and leaned back in her chair, stroking the skin of Lexa's knuckles with her thumb.

Furrowing her brows, the princess placed another hand on top of Clarke's. "What is it, Clarke?"

"It's just –"

Clarke sighed heavily and keeled fully forward for her forehead to fully touch their clasped hands. She breathed in Lexa's skin, taking in the distinct cologne and forcing herself to stop being so fucking insecure. If she kept this up, there would soon be a day when even the ever patient and kind Lexa Woods would be done with her.

"Hey," Lexa whispered, jostling her hand just a little to push the blonde to lift her head. "You can tell me anything." Then she added, "Even if I don't like it."

The blonde sat upright and adjusted her position on the increasingly uncomfortable chair. "I know enough soldiers to know that everything that happened in the warzone will do  _something_ to the veterans that make them want to go back even if they  _can't_ ," she said as succinctly as she could manage, eyes locked onto their hands.

What came after was discomforting and quite probably yet another one to the list of the many things that made Clarke anxious. Lexa was hushed and unmoving, but maybe the fact that she didn't remove her hand entirely from Clarke's was a good thing – or maybe she was too frozen in rage to move anything at all.

God, she  _knew_ it. She should have left this to Niylah. Who the fuck was she to offer an opinion like that? She was just a doctor who sewed people up and touched actual hearts and saw the insides of the princess' absolutely hot body. She was no expert on mental health or psychological synapses. She probably wasn't even correct in her conclusion.

_Nice job, Clarke. Way to let your insecurity get ahead of you._

"God, am I really so bad at this that everyone just thinks that it's not possible for me to just want to stay here?" Lexa finally broke the silence with a broken whisper, triggering an immediate response from the blonde by way of an immediate locking of eyes and an open mouth.

"What?"

At the edge of Lexa's eyes were shimmering but unshed tears. Those lips that gave Clarke the best of kisses tugged with a self-deprecating smile.

"I mean, what am I not doing right? What can I do?" Lexa started asking, voice shaking. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Lexa –"

I'm going to therapy. I swim every morning. I have meals with my family. I spend time with you. What else can I do?"

"Hey, baby –"

"Why do you all keep assuming that I don't want to be here with you? Is this – am I not  _enough_?"

" _Lexa_ ," Clarke urged in a stern whisper, one hand already slithered behind the brunette's neck and head bent forward to press their foreheads together. "Take a deep breath, Lexa. Just follow me, okay?" she instructed as she practiced the breathing exercise with the brunette.

The last time she saw the brunette so vulnerable was when they were both sitting in her living room and she had practically made Lexa spill her heart out about what being in the war had done to her and how her entire life had culminated into this. It broke her heart last time; it was breaking her heart this time.

Simultaneously, she inhaled and exhaled with Lexa, and hated herself for being the one responsible for this bout of attack – as minor as it was. She did this. She blinked rapidly to force back her own tears. Lexa didn't need her to cry right now; she needed an anchor, and Clarke was the only other living person in this room with her. She definitely couldn't let Lexa run out of the room in full view and bring down the whole institution with her presence.

When it seemed like Lexa had stabled enough to be able to breathe on her own, Clarke didn't relent on her grip on Lexa's neck. One thing she had learnt from Niylah was to maintain physical contact to keep a reminder that they were in the present, wherever they were, and not the location of trauma.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to make you think those things." Lexa frowned. "I shouldn't have pretended like I'm an expert in these things. I'm not," she reaffirmed to both herself and Lexa. "If you say it's just a trip, then it's just a trip."

"It  _is_ just a trip."

"Okay."

"I am involved with the Veterans' Agency and the Defense Department to work something consistent and sustainable for our country's veterans and their families."

"And I'm always in awe with you for that."

"But my parents told me that being behind the scenes isn't enough. It might work in the beginning, but in the long run, that just won't cut it," Lexa ranted, starting to sound impatient and frustrated. "They told me I have to be at the forefront, to let people see my face, then only will they find credibility in this program I'm building and start showing support for it."

"Right."

"So, you know, maybe Jaha's intentions weren't the best – he was definitely being selfish and trying to force my hand, and my dad and some general or something will deal with him soon. But it could work in my favor. Like, what better way to prove that I am the spearhead of this program than to show up back to my roots as a soldier on fucking Service Day, right?"

"That's a good point."

At this point, it wasn't Lexa simply explaining her situation to Clarke. It was her releasing all her frustration that had been pent up throughout the entire day to Clarke, and there was something about it that melted Clarke's heart almost immediately. Not a lot of people could say that they were who a princess sought after whenever she wanted to talk to someone.

Still, this was no time to feel personal satisfaction over that. She could do that on her own time. Now, when her pager wasn't buzzing and she was allowed this rare reprieve from her job, Lexa could have her. Lexa could have all of her.

"So I'm going to Libya. And it's just a trip. For three days. Showing my face and letting the press take photos and become the worst thing I imagine myself to be."

Clarke frowned at the sentiment.

"The purpose of this program isn't  _that_."

Ah, so that was it. Lexa was camera shy and true to her intentions.

She just wanted to help and bring as much comfort as she could afford, being the daughter of the king and all that. It wasn't about fanfare and publicity. She didn't need the name and the praise. She didn't need people talking about how good she was to be so involved in these affairs. Lexa, because she had the noblest of hearts and the worst of survivor's guilt, just wanted people to be comfortable in their grief.

Clarke massaged the princess' nape, providing more grounding with motion and moving muscles. She wasn't going to say anything, not until she was certain that Lexa had calmed down enough and was rooted enough in this reality to be able to hear her. Earlier was enough of a lesson – she honestly should give Niylah another call just to get a grasp of how to help Lexa work through her attacks, be they minor or major.

Outside, the world had gotten quieter as time passed and it was getting nearer to a time where parents put the children to sleep and doctors called it a night and the night shift janitors put on their headphones to get in the groove of their job. Briefly, she wondered if Gustus was still stuck outside, but knowing him, he probably would be until his charge told him to go home, maybe not even then.

Clarke should probably talk to him too, if she was going to spend as much time with Lexa as she already was. He would know. He went to a fucking warzone because he wanted to protect Lexa, for fuck's sake.

She watched as Lexa came back into focus in the form of alert eyes and slowed breathing and loosening fingers. It was remarkable to see all this in person, kind of miraculous, and all the more special that she was one of the few to get to see this process.

"I know your parents are supposed to know more about this kind of stuff than you, but do you, truly, genuinely, want to go?" she asked gently, still massaging.

Lexa rolled her eyes slightly, withdrawing slightly so they could stop leaning foreheads together. Clarke's fingers stopped kneading and her hand slid away from her neck but stopped at a shoulder. She didn't want to let go yet – this was just selfishness now.

"I'm much bigger than just myself, Clarke," Lexa whispered, sounding rarely tired and worn out.

Almost for the first time since she entered the room, the mere doctor could see the responsibilities weighing down on the royal princess' shoulders. Heavy and unwavering – movable only if Lexa wanted to abandon her post and leave everything be. And from what Clarke knew of her, the brunette would die before she shirked her responsibilities.

"I'm sorry," Clarke repeated. "I shouldn't have said those things."

Lexa shook her head. And then she smiled gingerly. "I guess we still have a lot to learn about each other, huh?"

Clarke returned the smile. "I'm a patient girl."

"Just…" Lexa closed her eyes, like she was afraid to look at Clarke. "Just stay with me, please."

Instead of offering a verbal response, the blonde only shifted from the chair to the bed beside Lexa. She lied down on the bed, pulled Lexa down alongside, and adjusted themselves so that Lexa had lied down with her head tucked into the crook between Clarke's shoulder and neck. She rubbed her hand up and down the brunette's back as she hummed without any rhythm at all.

At this point, she couldn't leave even if she tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lexa's healing, but it takes time. once again, if i made any mistakes regarding the attacks and the symptoms of ptsd, please tell me. i don't want to make the accidental mistakes and offend someone. :)
> 
> in the meantime, if you guys feel like it, you can [support this very poor jobless fresh grad via this link](http://overcanary.tumblr.com/post/180468208042/taking-commissions-caffeinate-me) :)


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